


Lifetime Of Memories

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-29
Updated: 2005-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-27 05:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: This is an AU fic set in 1900.  Brian and Justin are older men going over the memories of their life together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Author’s Notes: I’ve read a few historical B/J romances that I really love. I’ve wanted to write one of my own for quite some time. I was born and raised in Georgia, specifically Atlanta. I’ve never been a fan of romanticized Civil War movies or books. I’m just not into the whole *Sweeping Grand Antebellum South Epics.* I’ve never seen or read Gone with the Wind in its entirety, although I did buy *The Wind Done Gone.*

My girlfriend Jaime nagged me and a group of our friends into seeing *Cold Mountain.* Although I felt the movie failed to address a lot of the real issues that fueled the Civil war the love story was beautiful.

On 1/6/03 I saw a PBS special on Georgia’s Civil War. That started me to really thinking about writing this fic. Since I really didn’t want to deal with the civil war this story picks up a few months after it ended. The one good thing about writing this story was I did have to brush up on some historical facts about the Civil War, Western Territories, Indian Uprising, Homestead Act of 1862, life in the United States during 1865 and the beginning of Reconstruction. It was quite educational. If you are not in to historical romances this story may not be for you. Okay that’s enough rattling. So, here is my post Civil War fic.

Please give me some feed back to let me know if this fic is worth continuing.

* * *

JUSTIN  
(PRESENT 1900)

I pick up my pen and began to write.

Journal Entry   
Monday  
1900, the 1st day of January   
A New Century

We had a party for our family, friends, cowboys, ranch hands and a few of our neighbors tonight. It wasn’t a big affair. Just thirty-two people attended. Over the years Brian has learned to play the guitar, another ranch hand played his banjo, Juarez played the harmonica and some one shook a tambourine so we had a little music for dancing. There was a lot drinking and eating and of course everyone praised my famous spiked punch. 

When our grandfather clock struck 12 a.m. we all hugged, shook hands and kissed. Brian and I had to content our self with a brief hug until later in the evening. We went outside and fired a few shots in the air and set off fireworks. It was very festive. I enjoyed it. Although he pretended it was a nuisance I could tell Brian enjoyed it too. It is a new year. The dawn of a new century. And we are still alive to enjoy it.  
\----------  
I stop writing and walk over to stand at the French doors looking out over the ranch. Curiously I can’t write anymore. I can’t seem to get my thoughts on paper. Instead I’m a little introspective. Maybe it has to do with living to see a new century. I take pride in looking out over our land. At our home. We built this place with our own hands, with our own blood, sweat and tears from the ground up. Our house is a two story four bedroom house with a sitting room, cellar, bathing room, laundry room, office for Brian, small room next door to Brian’s office that I use to paint or write, large kitchen, formal dining room, wrap around porch and balcony. We also have living quarters for about 20-25 ranch hands, a cookhouse, a stable, a barn, a smoke house, a sweat lodge, a few other smaller multi-purpose buildings and another small one story three bedroom house a few acres from our home.

We came here because of the Homestead Act. Brian filed our claim with the land Agent and we began to build our life. We lived in a tent until we built our first two-room log cabin. That was a long time ago. This house is a long ways away from that first humble home. The first few years were spent on building our home and trying to settle into our life. We had a lot of set backs the first few years. There were times when Brian wanted to toss it all in and move back to New York. Not because he could not take the harsh non stop work but for my safety. Brian was always worried about my welfare. We did have a lot of close calls. After living through the first Indian attack while we were out scouting our land we were robbed by a couple of miners. Brian found them and got all of our stuff back. A few months later while Brian was out locating a herd of wild horses I was almost raped by a burly miner (Brian saved me of course). Then there was Brian’s first gun fight. Some man called Brian a liar and a cheat. He accused Brian of stealing horses and cattle and called Brian out for a duel. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen how dangerous Brian could be but I was always awed at his coldness and percission when he aimed his gun to take a life. After the men realized how mean, cold-hearted, fast and accurate Brian was with a gun we didn’t have a lot of problems. After the attempted rape and the Indian attack Brian wanted to take me back to New York. I wouldn’t hear of it. I told him my place was with him. Brian took my words literally. For the first five years he was never further than a shout away from me.

Although we settle in to cattle ranching Brian’s biggest passion became Wild Horses. There were a lot of them on the 160 acres we were given. Brian especially loved the Mustangs running wild. He roped a few and broke them and then a few more. After awhile when ever the Army needed horses they came to Brian. Brian’s favorite was a Chestnut Wild Mustang. It took Brian months to capture that horse. He really led Brian and a wild chase. I thought that Brian would break his fool neck trying to tame that Mustang but he did. He was never what you would call tame. In that respect he reminded me of Brian. Brian allowed me to name him. I went with the obvious choice. I named him chestnut. The two were loyal to each other until Chestnut died. Brian buried that animal and placed a marker on his grave. To this date his line is strong and healthy.

Although we brought other animals we made our living from cattle. I helped Brian a lot around the ranch when we first began but after he started hiring men I gracefully and gratefully bowed out. Roping, branding and castrating animals just wasn’t for me. The first time I watched Brian castrate a bull I fainted. After that Brian never castrated an animal around me again. Once we started hiring cowboys and ranch hands I took over more domestic tasks. I helped around the stables, tended to the other birthing and sick animals. Besides cows we had chickens and pigs. We also had a few pets. We own six dogs and quite a few cats that were used to keep down the rodents. I fed the other livestock and tended the garden I planted. Brian was a city boy but he took to the rugged terrain, the sometimes-harsh climate and the open plains quickly. 

Brian was meant for ranching and horse and cattle drives. I loved seeing his long legs in denim covered by chaps. A cowboy hat sitting low over his brow and a red bandana tied around his neck. Brian said he loved the way my denims fit me. Actually I think he just liked the way they hugged my ass.

I went on a few drives with Brian but it was a disaster. The dust played havoc with me. I spent most of the time sneezing, wheezing with watery eyes and a runny nose. Then of course there was the bruising on my ass and thighs from riding all day. The sun literally baked me to a crisp. My skin would turn so red I couldn’t stand to be touched. Then it would blister and peel. I was miserable on drives. After the first few drives Brian started insisting that I stay at home. I hated the time away from Brian but I loved how urgently we made love after his long absence. I felt the smile that curved my lips as I thought of those memories.

Together Brian and I carved out a life for ourself in this rugged terrain. Our five years we’d met all the requirements and the Land Agent gave us the deed to our property. We framed it and it’s hanging on the wall in Brian’s office. Brian accumulated more land along the years. We have been very prosperous in this hostile, uncivilized land. Brian and I found a place where we could be together. We found a place that we could call HOME!

Our few neighbors thought Brian and I were related. That he was my Uncle. They came up with the assumption on their own. Although it was a lie it served our purposes. We have never corrected them. It allowed us to live our life together and that was what was important. 

About 20 years ago one of the newly hired ranch hands raised questions about our living arrangements. I was in the barn tending to a cow that was having a difficult birth. The ranch hand had correctly guessed that Brian and I were lovers--sodomites. For a moment I panicked wondering how Brian and I would get through this revelation. I was afraid what would happen if he spread this belief. Hoping we would not be driven from our home or worst killed. 

Brian had always warned me that we had to be very circumspect about our relationship. I knew we could never openly admit our love for each other. That in the eyes of society we were not only committing a sin but what we did was against the law. I understood that society thought our feelings for each other were unnatural…deviant. 

I didn’t need to worry about the ranch hand. One of our old and trusted ranch hands, Juarez took offense and set the other guy straight. Juarez assured the new hire that he was mistaken in his belief that Brian and I were lovers. Juarez then gave him reasons why it was not possible for us to be lovers. He told the guy: “Mr. Brian he suffered an injury in the war. An injury that left him severely disabled.” I peeked through the slats in the stall in time to see Juarez pointing to his cock. *”Mr. Brian’s wanker don’t get up.*” To illustrate his finger went limp pointing for the ground. He explained or blamed my unmarried state on the fact that I had suffered greatly during the Civil War. He told him I wore a wedding ring and my wife had died during the war and the event had left me fragile and traumatized. That I loved my wife so much that I decided never to remarry. He told him that as my only living relative Brian had taken on the responsibility of taking care of me. 

I wondered where Juarez had gotten this information. The part about me was partially right. I was married at least in my mind and heart but it wasn’t to a woman. It was to Brian. It didn’t matter how Juarez had arrived at his conclusion the only thing that mattered was he believed it and the ranch hand accepted this explanation. The ranch hand even apologized to Juarez for insulting us. I almost laughed. If only they knew how often Brian’s wanker got hard! I told Brian about the conversation when we were in bed that night. The new ranch hand didn’t last long. Brian let him go a few months after he was hired. Brian rewarded Juarez’s loyalty with a sizable raise.

I want to open the French doors and step out on the balcony and let the cold air rush across my skin. I know it’s too cold to do that and I don’t want the cold air to wake Brian. I lean my face against the cold glass. Funny, I didn’t think I’d live this long. I didn’t think we’d live this long. It’s been some very trying years but *we’ve* made it through them. There have been hard times, dangerous times, sorrow, heartbreak interspersed with some of the happiest, sweetest most joyous days of my life with Brian. We’ve been together for 35 glorious years.

There have been times when I have wanted to strangle him. A couple of months before my 25th birthday I caught him fucking one of the ranch hands in the barn. I was devastated. That was one of our darkest times. I almost left Brian and went back to New York. I had packed my bag and even sent a letter to my Uncle asking him if I could stay with him until I could find a place of my own. For 2 months I didn’t sleep in the same room with Brian. I didn’t make love to him and barely spoke to him. But my love for him was stronger than the hurt he caused me. I stayed. I’ve never regretted it. I look down at the gold ring on my ring fingeran intertwining B&J a diamond in the middle of the letters. Brian gave it to me on my 25th birthday. He told me we were men and therefore society would never recognize us as a married couple. The ring was a symbol that we recognized each other as committed the same as a man and a woman in marriage. It was the most beautiful thing that Brian ever did for me. If possible I loved him even more that day. When we celebrated my birthday and had friends over we were also celebrating our wedding anniversary. 

Brian has a hard time expressing his feelings for me. He has never told me he loves me in words, but his actions, his deeds have expressed that emotion most eloquently. I know now that the words *I love you* will never pass his lips yet he shows me his love every day. 

I look over in the bed as my lover shifts in his sleep. He sleeps so peacefully….now. During the first few years we were together when the horror of the war was still fresh in his mind he slept restlessly. I’m glad those horrors are now locked safely in his subconscious and rarely if ever slip out. He told me that the first time he slept more than a couple of hours was the first night we slept together in that old abandoned barn used by runaway slaves on their way to freedom. 

I stretch and work the kinks out of my neck and shoulders. I should be exhausted. After the party we made love. Nothing fast and quick. It was soulful, languid, and beautiful. It’s not the wild, passionate, urgent, stormy ride of our youth but a more mature, loving, caring, intense, breath taking lovemaking. It’s amazing that at our age….at his age he has the stamina and is still very much interested in making love. We don’t last as long as we did 20 or even 10 years ago nor do we make love as often but still when we make love it is very satisfying and even at this age very rewarding. I’m awed that he still desires me now as much as he did in our youth. Brian still calls it fucking and laughs at my romantic thoughts and words. I smile thinking on it. Old age has not mellowed my lover.

Brian allows me my fancy words for making love. He has always told me I had a flair for melodrama and that I would make an excellent theatrical performer. However, no matter how much he scoffs at my fanciful words for making love when I tell him how much I love him I can see how his face lights up. He never fails to hug and kiss me when I utter those three words to him. 

I think of our bodies joining together as making love. Over the years we have perfected giving pleasure to each other. There is no longer any awkwardness or shyness or hesitation. We are attuned to each other’s wants, desires and needs. AND if that is romanticizing fucking so be it. As Brian says I do have a flair for melodrama. 

I roam around our large bedroom. The room takes up most of the top floor. It contains a mahogany four-poster bed piled with pillows, blankets and a dark blue coverlet that Daphne knitted for us. There are two large chairs and footstools in front of the fireplace, a small table next to the bed, a bottle of oil sits on top of it. The oil eases penetration. It’s just one of the many thoughtful things Brian does. 

The bedside table has a lamp with a hand painted blown glass. The floors are hard wood but a large multi-colored area rug covers most of the floor. There are two large wardrobes in the corners and a clothes chest at the bottom of the bed. Brian hoards clothes. He has more jeans, boots, socks, bandanas, gloves, chaps, long johns and shirts that any one man needs. He even has a few suits and neckties for the occasional times we venture into the next state to attend the theatre.

A hat rack stands near the bedroom door and Brian’s collection of cowboy hats are on it. His suede and sheepskin coat, black leather and heavy cotton dusters are on the opposite side of the door on the coat rack. In a corner of the room is my small desk. His gun holster hangs on the coat rack. His gun is on the night table. Brian is rarely far from his gun.

I gaze at myself in the Cheval mirror. It still surprises me to see an older face staring back at me. I feel so young. I still have the same loves, passions and desires that I had in my youth. I still love the same man I met as a youth. The only man I’ve ever loved in my life.

I lean in and stare more closely at my face. My face is lined now. Brian tells me my face shows character and maturity. I always laugh when he tells me that and then tell him my face shows the lines and crevices of old age. My eyes once bright blue and alert are a lighter shade of blue more a bluish gray than the sky blue of my youth. Those alert eyes now require reading glasses.

My blonde hair was bleached white by the sun by the time I was 30. So I didn’t go gray as I got older my hair just turned a bright white. The lily-white porcelain skin that Brian first ridiculed me about, that I later learned was one of the things he most loved about my physical appearance now carries a light tan. It has never gotten as deep as Brian’s because he’s nagged me like an old woman to stay out of the sun as much as possible. Which as far as I am concerned isn’t possible considering how much sun we get here. 

I haven’t gained a potbelly like many men my age. I still have my own teeth. I’ve remained slim. Because of my height, or lack thereof, as Brian likes to tease, I was always concerned I would get fat and he wouldn’t want me anymore. Thankfully that didn’t happen. I have gained a little weight over the years but Brian’s says it’s all in the right places. Which means my ass. Even now Brian swears I still have a great ass. Then he usually ruins the compliment by adding *for an old guy that is.*

I attribute my ability to maintain my slimness to the physical activity I do each day. Although we are very well off I don’t live a sedentary life. I still tend to the horses and livestock, plant and maintain a vegetable garden, flower garden as well as a few fruit trees I’ve planted that have grown and matured. 

For privacy reasons we don’t have a live in housekeeper. Our housekeeper comes in three times a week to do the washing. Once a week she is allowed upstairs to clean the rooms. That gives me a chance to make the room I’m supposed to sleep in look like it’s being used. The last thing Brian and I need is someone finding out that we share the same room. I do most of the cooking for me and Brian. The ranch hands have their own dining room and kitchen attached to their sleeping quarters. 

I still paint, sketch and write poetry. As a matter of fact a few of my poems have actually been published and I’m sought out by prominent people in this state and the bordering states to paint family portraits. Our home is a showcase for my portraits of our family, ranch life and the surrounding landscape. I even have a few paintings of some of my memorable places in Georgia. Like the Peachtree Creek area.

Most nights Brian and I take a walk after dinner then Brian retires to the office to work on the account books and I usually work on my sketches, paint or write my poems. 

My gaze glides over my lover again. The lines on his face make him look mature, ruggedly handsome….distinguished. He’s managed to avoid the stoop so many tall older men get. His face has barely sagged. He has a golden tan. His eyebrows still have that sweeping arch, his cheekbones still high and defined, his nose slim and elegant and his chin is still pointed. His thick hair is more white than chestnut and it only adds to his masculine beauty. His body is still lean, long and hard. And those eyes are still that same intense golden green framed by sinfully thick eyelashes. At 61 years old he looks much younger than his years and he is fit and rugged. 

I still catch my breath when I see him walking towards me with those long strides, his jeans fitting his long lean legs like a second skin. The sleeves of his chambray shirt rolled up exposing his tan muscled forearms. I look at him now and I’m just as awe struck by his masculine beauty as I was the first time we met. The first time our eyes locked. 

Maybe reminiscing is why I pulled out our old journals tonight. Over the years we have both kept journals of our lives. I look at the red, green, blue, tan, and black leather bound books lying on the desk. Brian’s journals are the plain black leather ones. My journals are the other ones and I’ve painted small scenery on each one. 

I move to the desk and separate the journals. Brian set this desk up for me years ago so I could write in my journal at night and still be close to him. This was the first time I’ve ever pulled out Brian’s private journals. Although we both keep them in the same place I have never invaded his privacy by reading his journals. For some reason tonight I’m interested in knowing what Brian has written about all these years we shared. 

In the evenings I’m never far from Brian. He likes to keep me close to him. I find that endearing he only mumbles and grumbles that he keeps me near because of my penchant to always stay in trouble. Maybe he’s right since the moment I met him he’s been defending me and getting me out of trouble.

Brian chose this territory not only because of the Homestead Act but because he had grown weary of the war torn states and he wanted to get as far away from Joanie and Jack as land could take him. 

Brian did not want to remain in New York and I didn’t want to remain in Georgia. We both carried enough mental, emotional and physical scars from our lives in Georgia and New York. We also knew that to live our lives privately we would need to live as far away from others as possible. We came out to the Western Territories to get away. To start a new life for ourselves. To be together. We even changed our names. 

I grab the journals for the years 1865-1866 and tuck them under my arm, pick up my reading glasses and lean over to toss another log in the fireplace to chase the chill out of the room. 

“Nice view,” Brian mutters. His voice thick with sleep has gotten deeper and huskier over the years. Maybe from smoking his beloved cheroots and also with age.

I turn around and walk back to our large four-poster bed that Brian had especially made for us. Well, especially made to accommodate his long frame and wide enough to accommodate our energetic and vigorous bouts of making love. Brian holds the coverlets back as I climb in bed with him.

“Why are you bringing the journals to bed?” He asks as I snuggle closer to him.

“I’m just in an introspective mood I guess. I thought I’d read. Do you mind if I read your 1865-66 journal.”

Brian is thoughtful for a few minutes. “No Sunshine. I have nothing to hide from you.” Then playfully he asks, “Would you like me to read you a bedtime story little boy? “ He punctuates this by wiggling his eyebrows. “I’d much prefer to read you the *other* books I have. Those are the bedroom stories I like most.”

Brian has a few books on male erotica with illustrations that would make most people blush. The first time I saw them I certainly did. We keep them well hidden.

I can’t help but laugh, “You are a lecherous old man.” 

His deep rumble of laughter fills my ear, “This morning you said I was cantankerous.”

I thought of the hard time Brian gave me about the party this morning. How he pouted because I was too busy to spend a lot of time with him. How he went about trying to distract me most of the day. 

“This morning you were cantankerous. Tonight you are lecherous,” I inform him.

That got a smile from him. “Why are you still awake? Usually a night of fucking would knock you right out. I must be losing my touch.”

I turn and run my fingers over his face, “Never.”

He gives me that cocky grin that has been melting my heart for 35 years. He scoots up against the headboard props a few pillows behind his back and positions me to lean against his chest.

“Tell you what. Why don’t you read those journals to me? Maybe I’m in an introspective mood too.”

I lean up and kiss Brian. This is why I love this man. Little gestures like tonight. He could have just rolled over and went back to sleep but instead he chooses to keep me company. After all these years he still makes me feel as if I’m the most important thing in his life. I put on my glasses, open my journal for the year 1865 turn to the page to the month I met Brian and open his journal for the same year and month. 

“I’ll read both of our journals. It’s about time that we both knew what the other was thinking. It’s a lifetime of memories in these books.”

“Then you need to start reading,” Brain says.

Before I start to read my thoughts travel back to that time. I remember it like it happened yesterday and not 35 years ago. It was September 1865, the Civil war was officially over and we were again one nation with one President. President Lincoln had been assassinated and Johnson was the new President. 

One of the casualties of the fighting in the South was Colonel James Stockwell. Unfortunately Colonel Stockwell had not died in the battle of the Civil War. His body was found along the banks of the Peachtree Creek a few weeks after the war ended. He had died of a single gunshot wound to the chest. Stockwell’s death is what brought Brian into my life.

I idly rub the cowrie shell bracelet he’s worn since the day I met him. I pick up my Journal and start reading aloud and let the memories of the past engulf me.


	2. Lifetime Of Memories

Journal Entry  
Justin Taylor  
Sunday  
1865, 17th day of September

This is my first journal. It’s seems fitting that after the war has ended that I would want to keep a record of my life. The war ended five months ago. I was so elated and joyous at the time. Full of dreams, hopes and fantasies. I had made a lot of plans in the beginning. I wanted to leave the south. Take Daphne and go north. I would have liked to go to New York. Find a school where Daphne could attend. I’d find a college to attend to further my education. My uncle lived in New York. I had hoped that Daph and I could we stay with him until I could find us a place to stay. Of course those were just my dreams and fantasies. Like everything in my life my father put an end to my glorious plans. Unfulfilled hopes, broken dreams and shattered fantasies have been a part of my life thus far.

My Uncle was the headmaster of St. James Academy in New York. I attended St. James Academy until December 1860. I returned home for the Christmas holiday on Wednesday, the 19th of December. The next morning my father called me into his study to inform me I would not be returning to New York that I would be completing my education in Georgia. I hated the George Washington Academy for Young men in Georgia. My interest in art and poetry was firmly discouraged. All of my classes were in the practical area of mathematics and business. Although I graduated at the head of my class I hated every moment of it. I endured the years at George Washington Academy for Young Men because I knew that as soon as I as able I would leave Georgia. It had always been my dream to return to New York with Daphne. In preparation I spent my spare time teaching Daphne to read, write and to speak properly. I taught her table etiquette and how to dress and act like a lady. Skills I knew she would need when we finally went to New York.

While at St. James Academy I was able to indulge my passion of art and writing my poetry. I had aspirations of being an artist and poet but my father has always been against that. He considered art and poetry useless endeavors only fit for women and effeminate men. The latter as far as my father is concerned is a fate worst than being a Yankee. 

My father wanted me groomed for business so that I could take over the factory. Dad inherited the factory when he married mother. Grandfather made it a part of Mother’s dowry. Father only hired a few workers the rest of the factory workers were from slave labor. With Slavery abolished Father was increasingly upset that he now had to pay for factory labor thereby severely decreasing his profit margin. The factory suffered fire damage during the burning of Atlanta. A small building has been erected so that father can conduct a modicum of business. The main facility is still under construction. Father says it will probably be months before it is completed.

Last week I told my father I was leaving Georgia and taking Daphne with me and there was nothing he could do to stop me. He gave me that sinister smile of his that never bodes well for me. Then he gave me the reasons I would never leave the South. Not as long as he lives. He was right. I shall never leave this place. So, I will remain here. I have given my word that I will stay, let him groom me to take over at the factory. Daphne was understandably upset when I told her we would not be leaving Georgia. Now. But if I am able I will send Daphne to New York even if I must stay here. Unfortunately some things about the south are ingrained in me. I still believe that a gentleman is honor bound to keep his word. Even if that word was making a pact with the devil himself; My Father. 

As long as father keeps his word and Daphne is safe I will endure this life as a Southern Gentleman and I will marry the woman that he chooses for me. What does it mater what woman he chooses. I will never love her. I will never desire her. Yet, I am duty and honor bound to uphold my agreement with my father. I will be the son that he always wanted. I will do anything to protect Daphne.

Although my dreams have been dashed yet again I guess things could have been worst. I really have nothing to complaint about. We have a very grand home. Also, a part of mother’s dowry. It seemed the only thing Father brought to marriage with Mother is his pedigree and name. His family was very prominent people from New Orleans that had fallen on hard times. The Taylor name carried prestige. It is a marriage made in hell as far as I can see. My mother’s family had money but were considered commoner’s, my father had a pedigree and the name to go with it but no money. Therefore, a marriage contract was made and viola! Jennifer and Craig became husband and wife.

My Mother and Father barely say two words to each other. They sleep in separate bedrooms, which I understand is quite common among married couples. The only time they are together is during breakfast and dinner and even then their speech is polite and guarded. 

Our home is a three story Georgian mansion. It’s in need of some repair but it is still a very grand home with a lot of surrounding acreage. Mother was always proud that we grew our own crops for the table. She took great pride in telling our neighbors everything that was on our table came fresh from her gardens. Mother may have owned the gardens but she certainly didn’t toil in the sun to bring forth the crops. Of course the Union army burned most of those crops.

I have been so wrapped up in my own woes and sorrows I have missed what is going on around me. I almost missed the feel of tension floating in the air. Two weeks ago Colonel James Stockwell was found dead on the banks of the Peachtree Creek. Murdered! Of course the only thing that our neighbors are worried about is how this will affect the way the Union soldiers treat us. I cannot seem to be bothered to care. I am too mournful from the realization that it is my fate to remain in Georgia to concern myself with the death of a Union soldier. There are rumors that a most decorated Union Major will be investigating Stockwell’s death. We shall see where his investigation leads.  
\---------  
Journal Entry  
Major Brian A. Kinney   
United States Army  
Sunday  
1865, 17th day of September

I am assigned to investigate the death of a Union Colonel. This assignment will take up the last few weeks of my term in the Army. I did not want to take this assignment. When I was first approached about this I was quite reluctant to take it. But I was told it had been at former General McCellan’s urging that this death be investigated. As a personal favor for the former General I agreed. I served under General McCellan before he was dismissed. I may not have agreed with his military strategy but I respected him as a man that cared about the lives of his troupes.. I was told that he and Colonel Stockwell were close friends. They studied and trained together.

I was a military college graduate myself. Before the war started I was young and ambitious. President Lincoln’s election proved to me that a man from humble beginnings could achieve much in this society. I had aspirations of becoming a General and perhaps pursing a career as a statesman. It was during the war that I had been promoted to Major. After four years of war, of leading men on the battlefield my aspirations are not as lofty. The four years of watching my men, some younger than myself, fall and die -- a little of me died also. The Monocacy battle on July 9, 1864 was my final turning point. On some level we all knew it was a suicide mission. We were out numbered. Our only goal was to hold the Confederate forces back to give reinforcements time to reach and fortify Washington. I knew that I would not survive this battle. I was prepared to die on the field fighting for what I believed in for a President whose ideals I believed in.

The battle was long and bloody. All around me my men were dropping. Screams and explosions filled the air. Many body parts littered the ground and sailed through the air like missiles. I tried to avoid trampling a wounded soldier. I remember an explosion going off in front of me. Then I realized that I was hit. I could feel the warm wetness of my blood seeping through my clothing. My horse-- well trained for war-- reared up, lost its balance and teetered. I fell and all went black. 

I remember waking up in excruciating pain. The sounds of cannon and gunfire had ceased. I heard the painful moaning of the wounded and dying all around me. Then I became aware of the weight pushing me down into the soggy earth. There were dead bodies and body parts not only all around me but also on top of me pinning me to the ground. The blood of the bodies had completely saturated me and the ground around me. The stench of the dead, the blood, and waste of human and animals was nauseating. Just remembering that day brings back horrors that are best left on that battlefield. It was after that battle that I was promoted to Major. 

When my term of service ends I just want to put as much distance between myself and the memories of fighting in the this Civil War as far behind me as humanly possible. I want to go somewhere that has not been a part of a battlefield. That has not felt the effects of this war.

I arrived in this Godforsaken place early afternoon. My first thoughts were how anyone could stand this oppressive heat. Before going to town I stopped at the base camp to speak with some of the soldiers. I spoke with a few soldiers at the camp near the creek. No one really knew why the Colonel would have stopped at Peachtree Creek. It was actually a little out of the way if he was heading back to town. He was last seen leaving camp heading back to his lodgings in town around 8:00 p.m.. He left alone which I’ve been told is not unusual. The theory was that Colonel Stockwell decided to detour to Peachtree Creek and take a swim and was set upon by Confederate thieves or vagrants. 

I disagree with this theory. If thieves or Confederate vagrants set upon Colonel Stockwell he would have been duly robbed. His horse was not stolen. The Colonel’s horse wandered back to camp during the early morning hours. That is what alerted his troupes something was wrong. When found the Colonel was fully clothed although buttons were torn from his uniform as if he’d been in a struggle. He also had scratches on his cheeks, face, neck and hands. He had a few coins in his pocket as well as his pocket watch. His boots made of good quality leather had not been taken nor his weapons. What thieves or vagrants would leave this bountiful booty on their victim? I quickly dismissed robbery as the reason for the Colonel’s death. 

After my talk with the soldiers I continued into town. It was late evening when I finally arrived tired and sleepy. I was shown to a small room in the building that was being used as Army headquarters. The room was adequate for my needs and hopefully my short stay. 

Georgia is a hot and humid place. Not unlike most of the South. This is a place that I hope to soon cleanse from my mind and body. It has been months since the war ended yet the acrid smell of smoke still permeates the air. The city is little more than burnt ruins. A few shelters, homes out side the city and buildings were left standing. Others have been built or are in the process of being rebuilt but the city is a shadow of his former glory. After I settle in and familiarize myself with the area I will go out and look around the spot as well as the surrounding area where Colonel Stockwell’s body was found. Perhaps I can find some clues that may help lead me to the identity of his assailant or assailants. 

\-----   
Journal Entry  
Justin Taylor  
Wednesday  
1865, 20th day of September

We (Mother, Father, and I) have been summoned to speak with the Union Major. I knew it was coming. Mr. Johnson from the neighboring plantation stopped by yesterday to tell father he had just left the city from talking with the Major. He called the Major a pompous, odious ill-bred, Northern scum. He ranted that the Yankee Major talked down to him and dismissed him out of hand. Father, who by the way has never met this gentleman agreed with Mr. Johnson’s assessment of the Major and his character. I on the other hand shall withhold my judgment. I do not like Mr. Johnson. He was a tyrannical slave owner and is a pompous, self deluded asshole. If he dislikes this Major I shall strive to find some redeeming quality in the Major to like. 

Needless to say Father is livid and has refused to answer the summon and forbidden Mother and I from going. I explained to Father that I will answer this summon and so should he. Father doesn’t seem to understand if we do not go to meet with the Major, he can send soldiers to bring us in. My words were not persuasive enough. Father still would not relent. Following Father’s directives Mother has stated she will not answer the Major’s summons either. As much as I try to get him to see reason he will not. Father is having a difficult time accepting the South lost the war and that life as he knew it before the war started in 1861 is not the way life will be from this day forward. Father cannot seem to realize he is not the rich and powerful factory owner anymore. 

It did not take me long to realize that on the morrow I must go into Atlanta to meet with this Major. I will take Daphne with me. I do not like leaving her in the house alone. I don’t trust the new foreman father has hired to over see the repairs to the house. He is a lowly sort and his manners and speech are coarse and crude. His eyes follow Daphne most lustfully. I have warned him several times to stay away from her or suffer my ire but at last I can tell he considers me as nothing more than a child and pays me no mind. I have spoken to Father about this and he has promised to speak with him.   
\--------------

BRIAN   
PAST  
(September 1865)

I sat in my make shift office. On the desk I had a map of the States and the Western Territories. I have been studying the Homestead Act and I would probably relocate to one of these territories. Arizona, the Dakotas, Nevada, Montana and Oklahoma look promising to me. Although there were a lot of hostilities with Indian uprisings I’m not concerned. There were forts in most of the locations I have considered. As a military man I could take care of myself. When I told my father that I was thinking of moving to the Western Territories he laughed at me and called me a pampered city boy and a bit of a dandy. After this war I don’t think I could ever be called a pampered city boy or dandy again. Any softness I may have had was certainly gone now.

I had a few books on raising livestock and farming. I’d also brought a few plans from architects on building cabins and homes. I had been studying them conscientiously. I had every intention of succeeding in the territories. Farming the land, building shelter and living on the land for five years were three of the perquisites to of the Homestead Act. I would be the first to admit that I had never grown anything or built anything in my life, but my will was strong and I have every intentions of being successful. I have a small heritance from my grandfather on my mother’s side. Once I settled down I’d buy some livestock, plant vegetables and earn a prosperous living from the land.

I would miss Mikey, his mother Ms. Novotny and his Uncle Victor. Mikey had been there for me since we were both lads of fourteen. Whereas I excelled in Military School he barely passed and only with my help. He didn’t go on to graduate school as I did but took a job with his family’s restaurant business. Leaving Michael behind would be my only regret when I left New York. I would miss his friendship. 

I had yet to tell Mikey my plans of moving to the Western Territories mostly because I dreaded his reactions. First he would try to talk me out of going. When he realized I couldn’t be persuaded to change my mind he would try to make me feel guilty for leaving him. And leave Mikey I must. My biggest mistake was fucking Mikey. Yet I was leaving for war. I didn’t expect to live through it. I knew Mikey was *IN* love with me. I wanted to give him something to hold on to and remember me by. He’d given me so much. My cock didn’t seem like much to give to a man that had been such a good friend to me. Fucking Mikey was my final goodbye to him. I loved Mikey. I’d told him that many times. He was my best friend. I just did not, would not, and could not love him the way a man loved a woman. Two men could never feel that way about each other. 

I would have to deal with Mikey before I left for the Western territories. So, once my assignment ended I would return to New York to pack the few possessions I would take with me and to talk with Mikey. I had to get him to understand that the week we spent fucking before I left for the War was great but that was all it was--one week of great fucking between friends. Nothing more. I didn’t want to make a life with Mikey. I didn’t want to make a life with any man. I enjoyed fucking men and after the fucking was over I wanted the man to leave. I didn’t believe in love. I believed in fucking. Getting the maximum amount of pleasure with the least amount of stress. 

I would also have to say good-bye to my family. It shouldn’t take long. We were never a very close and loving family. I would barely spare a thought to my parents once I left New York. My mother was a cold unemotional woman that paid little attention to my sister or me. My father was little better. He was a career military man that never made it to the status he aspired. He took his frustration out on me with a swift backhand and a right hook. The beatings stopped when I was about fourteen. By then I was as tall as my father and had lost my fear of him. It was also about the time he realized I was physically superior and would fight back.

There was a five-year age difference between my sister and I. She was the eldest. We were never really close. She was shipped off to school when I was ten years old. I went to Military School and my sister went to a Ladies Finishing College. She was married while I was out fighting in the war. At her age and with her bland looks she was lucky to find a husband. Her inheritance from my grandparents probably helped her convince some poor man to marry.

I shook off the thoughts of my past. Now was not the time to think of my family. Soon they would be a distant memory and I would be carving out another life hundreds of miles away. 

I checked my pocket watch to see how long it would be before my appointment with the Taylor’s. The Taylor’s were my last interview of the day. In the last few days I had interviewed several families that lived near Peachtree Creek. I knew no more now than I did when I came to Atlanta. The families had been far from helpful. They had answered my questions but had not offered any additional information. It was apparent that there were still hostilities over the war. These hostilities would probably last for years to come. I was not concerned. I would be far away from the North and South in a few months.

I stretched my hands over my head and stood up. I had taken off my jacket due to the heat. I checked my appearance. It was good to finally be able to clean myself properly each day. One of the things I hated most about the war besides the death and destruction was the days on end that I went without a bath, washing my hair, changing my clothes or cleansing my teeth. Living with not only my own body stench but that of my fellow comrades. Having open sores festering on my body. I shuddered thinking about those times. I resolved to never be that filthy again in my life. 

As hot as it was I slipped back on my uniform jacket and buttoned it to the top. My next appointment was due now. I read the notes again. The Taylors: Craig Beauregard Taylor born March 4, 1813 in New Orleans. He came from a very powerful and prestigious family. He had been one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in Atlanta. He lived in a large Georgian Mansion on the outskirts of Atlanta. He’d owned 30-40 slaves before the war. 

His wife was Jennifer Abigail Taylor born in Georgia September 25, 1823. She had volunteered in the Confederate hospital during the war. Their son Justin Taylor was born January 12, 1848. He never joined the Confederate army. He volunteered with his Mother in the hospital. The Taylor’s had a daughter Molly Elizabeth. She died June 16, 1856 from fever.

The majority of their slaves had left. From last count about seven had stayed with them as paid domestic and factory help. The notes did mention that young Justin was always in the company of his slave girl, Daphne. That was interesting. Of course she was a freewoman now. It stated that she was light enough to pass for White. I wondered if she was the boy’s lover. Not uncommon in the South. I’d make a note to speak with her later.

I sneered at Craig and Justin’s lack of military service. Men younger and older than both had served in the war. Had died in the war. Although in the draft for the North Lincoln only asked for men between the age of 20 – 45 I’d walked the fields after battle and I had seen Confederate soldiers that looked no more than children and some men looked like grandfather’s. 

Craig’s money and power probably kept both away from the war. Or maybe Justin didn’t go to war because he did not want to leave his lover. For some unknown reason I was forming a dislike for this obvious spoiled pampered man and his little rich boy son. Craig Taylor and his son probably thought they were entitled to their lavish rich lifestyle and was probably angry that it had been taken away from them. I walked to the window and looked out at the dreary landscape. 

The knock on the door pulled me away from my thoughts. “Enter,” I said. I did not bother to turn around. I clasped my hands behind my back.

“Your next appointment is here sir,” the officer said.

“Send him in.”

I heard one set of light footsteps on the wooden floor. The steps were so light I figured it was a woman. I had been told that Mrs. Taylor was a blonde, blue eyed, very petite and beautiful woman. My impression of the Taylor men shrunk more. Instead of facing this summon like men they had sent a woman not knowing what would happen to her. I let out a sigh and turned around.

I was awestruck at the vision before me. Not Mrs. Taylor, but if I was guessing correctly, young Justin Taylor. He was dressed in a fine white cotton tailored shirt with blue strips. A little faded but the blue matched his eyes. His trousers were made of good quality cotton and were also a little wear worn but clean and pressed. He had on a pair of good quality brown boots.

The boy was absolutely beautiful. Although I knew he was older he could easily pass for a boy of thirteen. I’ve seen paintings of angels that could not hold a candle to the young man standing before me. He was slightly built. Like his mother he too was blonde and blue eyed. His blonde hair was long falling against his collar while the bangs fell softly across his forehead emphasizing his bright blue eyes. Those eyes were staring straight at me. They were open and honest and was as clear as a crisp cold blue lake. His skin reminded me of fine porcelain and I idly wondered how he managed to keep his skin so beautiful during these harsh hot Georgia summers. It was his luscious pink lips that had captivated me the most. The lower lip was full and pouty and I wanted to suck it in my mouth. I shook these fanciful thoughts from my head. I was beginning to sound like those sickening romance novels Ms. Novotny read constantly. 

I was rarely attracted to blonde men. In New York there were certain clubs and bars near the docks that catered to men of a certain appetite. Men like myself. When I gave these places my patronage I was usually attracted to men whose physical appearance was similar to mine. Tall, slim, strapping men with ruddy skin, dark hair and eyes. Sturdy men that could take a lusty bout of fucking. 

Young Mr. Taylor was far from what I was normally attracted to. For one he wasn’t very tall and he was quite slight, pale and looked fragile. I could not see him taking my long thick cock up his ass. He didn’t look sturdy enough to last in a mild bout of fucking with me. Of course I would love to slip my cock pass his luscious lips. To feel the wet heat of his mouth wrapped around my cock. I cleared my throat. I attempted to dismiss any lustful ideas I had of him.

Unfortunately my cock had a mind of it’s own. It seemed to find young Mr. Taylor very appealing. On it’s own accord my cock twitched in my blue trousers. I moved away from the window to place something between this vision that stood before me and myself. He turned toward me his eyes never leaving mine. 

Well, Well young Mr. Taylor’s pupils were a little dilated, his breathing had changed, his nose flared and he unconsciously licked his lips. I knew that hungry look. I had seen it many times. Most men would not know it or understand it. I understood perfectly. Maybe it was just a mechanism that men of a certain desire used to recognized each other. At the moment it did not matter. I wondered if he even knew what he was. Most likely not. He probably had yet to put a name to the desire or attraction he felt for other young boys and men. It was doubtful that he had ever known the touch of another man. I would love to educate him. I wanted to be that man to touch him. To show him what he desired. I shook those thoughts from my mind. I was not here to slake my lust on an unsuspecting youth no matter if he found me attractive. In another place and another time I would have availed myself of this boys unspoken invitation of his considerable charms, but alas this was not the time or place. I sat down and adjusted my tightening material around my cock and took a deep breath.

“I am Major Brian Kinney. And you are?”

He stepped forward and extended his hand across the table, “ I am Justin Taylor, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

His voice was soft and melodious with a slight Southern drawl. It went straight to my cock. I grasped his hand in a firm grip and shook it before releasing it quickly. I had felt a jolt when my hand had touched his. Although I felt calluses on his much smaller hand it did not distract from its softness or warmth. He seemed to feel it too--the jolt. His little pink tongue snaked out of his mouth wetting his lips as his eyes completely devoured me. He was making it very hard for me to remember that he was not here for me to fuck. I had to remember why I was here. Maybe that was why my next words were said so brusquely. 

“We shall see if you consider it a pleasure to meet me after we have talked. Where are your parents Mr. Taylor?” 

Young Mr. Taylor clasped his hands in front of him and blinked twice before answering. “I must apologize for my parents absence, Major Kinney. They are indisposed at this moment and for that reason I alone have answered your summons.” Before I could speak he quickly added. “But I assure you I can answer any questions that you might have sir.”

“Very well.” I stated and began my questions.

“Mr. Taylor can you tell me where you were around eight or nine o’clock Sunday evening on September 3? 

“I was most likely in my room sir.“

“So, you were asleep?” I ask.

“Oh, no sir,” he stated earnestly, “I was most likely sketching or writing.”

This bit of news got my attention. “And what would you sketch or write?”

He flushed, “I….I like poetry sir. I write it some times. Or I spend time in the evening sketching whatever catches my attention.”

”Do you know where your parents were that particular Sunday evening?”

“They had retired to bed sir. My parents never stay up late.”

“Can you think of anything out of the ordinary occurring on Sunday, September 3? Did you notice any strangers in the area that day or evening?

“No, sir. It was just a normal Sunday.”

I looked at my notes again. “Who is Daphne?”

I could see my question startled him. For a moment he was flustered.

“Ex-exactly why d-do you need to know about Daphne? Why is she of any interest to you?”

“Mr. Taylor I asked you a simple question. I need a simple and forthright answer. So again I ask who is Daphne? And what is she to you?” My voice was cold and hard. It was the tone I used for disciplining my troops. I knew it would get the desired response from young Mr. Taylor.

“Daph-Daphne,” he stuttered. Then sticking his chest out and taking a deep breath he answered my question. “I be-believe Daphne to be my sister, sir.”

Although my face did not register it his answer totally shocked me. I was not prepared for that revelation. “Why do you believe this?”

He let out a weary sigh, “It is the south Major Kinney. Surely you’ve heard of such things. Her mother Sissy was a house slave and although she was married to our houseman Hamilton I have been told by other’s and my father has confirmed that he *knew* Sissy in the biblical sense around the time of Daphne’s birth. There is a fair chance that Daphne is my father’s child. Although as far as my father is concerned she has never been anything other than his property. I cannot so easily dismiss the blood ties I may have to her. It matters not to me that my father or this society does not recognize her as my sister for I do. As her older brother it is my duty to provide for her, educate her and protect her.”

“I commend you. That is very liberal thinking.”

He shrugged, “I lived with my Uncle for a time. He was an abolitionist.”

I looked at this slight young man with who I was beginning to see had very strong beliefs. I realized my first impressions of him were far from correct. Then I smirked when I realized he couldn’t even call *fucking* by it’s true name. A young man like that was certainly not prepared for what I wanted to do to him. The way I wanted to know this young man had nothing to do with the *bibilical* sense. I tried to reign in my lustful thoughts about Young Mr. Taylor. I switched my line of questioning.

“Why didn’t you fight in the war?”

His eyes burned with a fierce intensity as he spoke, “I could not shed blood, fight or die for a cause or a way of life that I did not believe in.”

“What did your Father think of this?”

“He called me a traitor, a coward and a disgrace to the Taylor name.”

“And what did you say to this?”

“I told him that I would rather be a traitor, a coward and a disgrace to the Taylor name than to go out and kill for something I did not believe in and become a coward, a disgrace and traitor to my convictions.”

I realized that behind the image of a slight beautiful boy lurked a very opinionated and strong willed young man. I found this conversation had taken a strange turn of events. I let out a sigh. I stopped pretending to be taking notes, laid down my pen and looked at the beautiful man/boy staring so intently at me. My thoughts were far from pure as I looked in his eyes. I could not really concentrate on questioning him because my cock would not remain still in my blue trousers. I decided the best course of action was to end this interview.

“That will be all Mr. Taylor. If you can think of anything that might be helpful about that day don’t hesitate to stop in the office. Please inform your parents that I still may need to speak with them. I will contact them again within the next few days. Until then you may leave.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

As he turned to leave I got a view of his backside. His ass was round, firm and delicious. He had the perfect ass. When I realized what I truly was and my true desires I devoured any and everything I could find on the subject. Amazingly it seemed that some of our great Greek and Roman male warriors craved the flesh of other men. I found an out of the way bookstore in New York near the docks that catered to certain deviant desires. I bought a book on male erotica with illustrations that detailed many sexual acts between men. The most interesting act was not the technique on sucking cock but of performing oral stimulation of the anus. I’ve never been inclined or even tempted to want to perform that act before. That was before I got a view of the perfect round apple ass that was heading out of this cramped hot room. Not only would I like to sink my dick in that delicious rounded ass I wanted to sink my tongue in it as well. I didn’t know what compelled me but before I could rationalize my motives I spoke.

“Mr. Taylor you are very familiar with this area aren’t you?”

He turned around. He seemed puzzled by my new line of questioning but he answered, “Yes, sir. I have lived here most of my life barring the years I lived in New York.”

That was an interesting bit of news. I was just thinking about New York. I decided to follow it through for a moment, “When were you in New York?”

“When I was nine I became ill with fever and when I recovered the doctor thought a cooler climate would be beneficial to my healing. I went to stay with my Mother’s brother in New York. He was a schoolmaster and I attended school while there. My Uncle Rodney encouraged my pursuits in art and poetry. He greatly influenced my thoughts on slavery and freedom. I learned many things while in his care.”

I nodded, “When did your return?”

I watched a veil come over his eyes. “December of 1860. I came home for Christmas and was not allowed to go back to New York.”

I let out a sigh. I had gotten a little off track in my questioning. This boy was certainly not what I was expecting. “Mr. Taylor I need a guide to show me around the Peachtree Creek area this evening. If you could spare the time I would be indebted to you for your assistance.”

“Of course! I would be honored sir,” he said ecstatically.

“Very Well Mr. Taylor. When will be a most convenient time for you?”

“First please call me Justin. I prefer that.”

He looked at me so expectantly I had to agree. I nodded in agreement. “Very well, Justin.” I let his name roll off my tongue like a caress

It had the desired effect. A slight flush infused his cheeks. He seemed to take a big breath and gather his courage, “I was just wondering sir, I mean if you have the time and you are not terribly busy and since we will be out together” he was truly flustered. “I was wondering if you would allow me to sketch you?”

I gave it some thought. The last thing on my mind should have been sitting still why the boy sketched me but the idea of being alone with him for an extended length of time was too tempting to turn down. If I was discreet and careful I couldn’t see any reason why I shouldn’t avail myself on what the young man was unconsciously offering.

“I don’t see any harm in that. After you have shown me around the Peachtree Creek area I will pose for your sketching?”

The boy blasted me with a smile that rivaled the Georgia sunshine. I was blinded and left speechless. My cock nearly jumped from my pants. More than ever I wanted this young man.

“We sit down to supper at 5:00 p.m. Unfortunately we can’t meet at my home. I don’t think Father would approve.”

His father certainly wouldn’t approve if he knew the thoughts that were floating through my head about his young son. I gave it some thought, “Very well Justin. I have to a few more places in town to visit and then I will sit down and eat with the officers. Can you meet me at quarter past six near the edge of town by the old livery?”

His smile beamed, “I’ll be there Major Kinney. You can be assured of that,” he stated excitedly.

“I’m glad to hear that,” I smirked.

Justin stepped forward and reached his hand across the desk. I took his hand in mine and held it a moment or two longer than necessary. I just wanted to judge his response. To make sure I was reading the signs correctly. He looked down at our joined hands. Unconsciously his thumb stroked over my hand. He seemed reluctant to disengage our hands. I firmly slipped my hand from his and met his eyes. The blue eyes were lust filled. His checks were flushed. My stay in Georgia was not going to be as miserable as I first thought.

“I shall see you later, Justin.”

\-----------  
JUSTIN   
September 1865

I spotted Daphne sitting on the bench where I had left her outside the door of the Army office. I took her hand in mine as we made our way back towards Father’s factory.

“Did it go badly?” she asked. Around me Daphne’s diction was perfect. Around others she perpetrated an ignorant uneducated diction.

I stopped in the middle of the dry caked Georgia road and looked back at the building I had just left. I turned to Daphne and said in total awe, “Daphne I just saw a man with the face of a Greek god and his name is Major Brian Kinney.”

\--------------


	3. Lifetime Of Memories

Dedications: This fic is a birthday gift to my girlfriend Jaime a Civil War buff.

* * *

We were lying on our backs in the dry open field. Which was great for me. Usually the tall grasses and the fields blooming with flowers made my eyes, nose run and made me sneeze. This time of the year was better there wasn’t as many flowers and trees blooming. 

We were eating the few apples I had grabbed. The harvest was not as plentiful as in earlier years. These apples weren’t as juicy or sweet as ones from years before. The Union army had burned much of the crops and those that were spared were far and few and those that were trying to grow again were doing so slowly. 

It was a beautiful day. Not the sweltering heat of the summer but warm and languid a breeze blowing across the open field. In Georgia it rarely got cold before October and then the temperatures were mild. Blue Ridge and other mountain areas got snow but Atlanta rarely did. It could get cold but it didn’t last long not like in New York.

I was staring off in space thinking of the beautiful man I had just left in his office. The beautiful man I would be seeing later that evening. When he first turned around and locked those sparkling green-gold eyes on me I stopped breathing.

In all my years I had never met anyone as beautiful as this man. His eyebrows were thick and perfectly arched. Thick dark eyelashes framed his arresting green-gold eyes. His eyes were direct and burned with life. His skin was golden, the sun streaming through the open window streaked his chestnut hair with burnished reds and golds. He had a slim elegant nose, high cheekbones, and his lips….his lips were full, firm and red. They looked soft and delicious. I wanted to reach out and trace them with the tip of my tongue. He had a strong jaw and a determined pointed chin. His voice was deep and husky. It set tingles off all over me. 

Major Kinney had a beautiful body to match his face. He was long and lean. Before he turned to face me I trailed my eyes from the top of his head to the bottom of his black leather boots. His shoulders were wide, he had a strong back, and narrow waist and what little I could see past his blue uniform jacket he seemed to have a nice firm ass. His thighs were long and firm with tight-corded muscles. I finally understood what those writers of the female romance novels Daphne and I read each evening meant when they stated *flushed with burgeoning heat, or her heart palpitated wildly; her body was suffused with a warm glow and last but not least she swooned at the sight of him. That is exactly the way I felt when I saw Major Kinney. When his large strong-callused hand engulfed mine a jolt went through out my entire body. My man area swelled in my pants.  
I thought that I had loved Ethan. That I was enchanted with him. I was so wrong. So very, very wrong. I didn’t feel a tenth for Ethan what I felt for this man and I knew much less about him. Looking at Major Kinney I finally knew what love was. It was being completely breathless because some one looks at you. It was being unable to put a name to the feelings another person invokes in you. It was being swept away and the person has yet to touch you or utter a sweet word to you. It was wanting to be with that person and you knew nothing about them. I was totally in love with Major Brian Kinney. It took me a few seconds to realize that Daphne was speaking to me. 

“Justin aren’t you listening? I’m talking to you. You’re thinking about him, huh?” She asked. 

She rolled over on her side facing me. Her chin was propped on her hands as those beautiful brown eyes stared intently at me. 

“Who?” 

She smirked and threw her apple core at me. “You know *who.* That man in the Army Office. The Major. The one you said had the face of a god.” 

I let out a sigh. I didn’t answer her. My feelings were rioting. I had never felt like this before. I was giddy and sick at the same time. I couldn’t get the Major off my mind. The way he smelled a mixture of tobacco, some woodsy scent and sweat. That was the biggest turn on the smell of his clean sweat.

I closed my eyes and remembered the touch of his hand on mine. The sound of his voice when he said my name and the tilting of his lips in to that slight smile. And mostly I could not get his body out of my mind. I could not get him off my mind.

“He asked me to take him around the Peachtree Creek area.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said yes.”

Daphne looked shocked, “Do you think that is wise? 

What if he finds out about your Father?”

I let out a sigh, “He will not. I’ll make sure.”

Daphne took my word on it. “Justin can I ask you a question?”

I snorted. Daphne always asked that when she was about to be a little busy body.

“Nothing I can say will stop you,” I smirked. She ignored me.

“Do you like that Major Kinney the way those ladies in the romance novels like men?”

Her question startled me. I wondered if I was that obvious. I hoped not. I did not know much but I knew that it was a sin for a man to love another man.

“Daphne why would you even think that?” I tried to sound insulted and shocked. I do not think I was very convincing.

She tilted her head to the side the way she did when she was thinking. “You never talk about kissing girls. That fresh Lilly is always trying to get you to walk her down the street or come for a glass of cool juice at her house and you never go. At least three times a week Sarah Thompson tries to get you to go riding with her or come to her home to dinner and you always say no. I’ve never heard you say that you wanted to kiss a girl. The only person you have ever talked about was Ethan. When you came back from up in New York. You talked about him all the time. How romantic he was. How sweet and gentle he was. How dark and haunting his eyes were. I know it made you sad to leave him. You moped about for months. And when he didn’t write you I could tell you were sad. You have a big smile on your face when you talk about Major Kinney. You never smile like that when you talk about girls or even that Ethan. I think Major Kinney makes you happy. I think you love him. I think you want to marry him.”

“Daph! Never say that again! It could get me in trouble! It’s against the laws of God and the laws of the land for a man to love another man! I could go to the penitentiary or even worst be put to death for that act!”

“That’s unfair,” she said indignantly. “You shouldn’t be punished for loving someone. The romance novels say that you don’t have a choice of who you love. It just occurs.”

I had to smile. Daphne was so bright and educated. She still stumbled over some words but she was better educated than a lot of people. And for everything I’ve taught her she could still be so naïve.

“Daph it’s different.” I didn’t know how to explain this to her. “Daphne men are supposed to love women, get married and have children. Men aren’t allowed to love men or to marry other men. Man and Man cannot have children and prosper and multiply which is why men and women marry. So, it’s a sin for a man to love a man. To know another man in the biblical sense. For that reason Daph you must promise me never to say that I like men around anyone else. Promise me!”

“I promise Justin,” she said solemnly. “I’d never do anything to harm you. Remember we promised to always take care of each other. You’re my brother. I’m you sister. I’ll never let anyone harm you.”She launched herself in my arms. 

I hugged her tight. “Yes, we did. And we will.”

We hugged for a long time. I loved her so much. I’d do almost anything to keep her safe. Anything!

She leaned back and looked me in the eyes. “You can tell me Justin. I promise I won’t tell anyone else. Do you like that Major Kinney? The way those ladies in the romance novels like their heroes?”

For a long moment I didn’t speak. I’d never ever admitted this to anyone. It had always been my sinful secret. Something I was afraid to share with anyone. Then I thought about Daphne. We shared so many secrets. This one couldn’t be any worse that the other secrets we shared. I gave her a wistful smile. “Yes, Daph I like him. He is absolutely beautiful. I have never met a man like him before.”

Daphne jumped with excitement. “Justin that’s just Grand! Does he like you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. He only asked me to take him around the Peachtree Creek area.”

“Are you going to kiss him?”

Now I was shocked. I could feel the blush spreading across my cheeks, “Daph! We just met. I don’t know if he even likes me *in that way.*

“How will you know if he likes you?”

“If he holds my hand like Ethan used to do.”

Daphne nodded her head in understanding. “That’s a good way to tell if a man likes you. All the romance novels say so. One day I’m going to fall in love, hold hands and get married.”

“One day Daph I hope you do and me too.”  
\-------------  
Tonight when I got home I let Daphne convince me to change into another shirt and pants. She was more excited about this evening than I. She had spent far too many hours reading those romance novels. I needed to assure that she spent as much time reading Shakespeare, Stowe, Haret, Melville and Dickens as she did her romance novels. 

I put on the blue cotton shirt that Daph said made my eyes look as blue as the sky. While I used Daph’s lavender scented soap to wipe off the sweat and dust of the day from my neck, chest, face and hands she cleaned the caked on red mud off my boots. 

When I came down to dinner Mother commented on how nice it was that I had changed for dinner. If she only knew I’d changed to impress another man. As usual dinner was a strained affair. Mother and Father talked about what each had done that day and what their plans were for the next day. The only thing I wanted was for the dinner to end. I really hated having dinner in the large dining room. It made no sense to me why 3 people still ate in a room designed to hold at least 12 people. I usually took my meals in the kitchen with Daphne but tonight Mother had insisted that I eat dinner with she and Father like a normal family. Not wanting to cause an undue scene I acquiesced to her wishes. 

After dinner I assured that Daphne was safely locked in my room reading “The Whale by Herman Melville” before I left. I’m sure she was reaching for a romance novel before I could shut and lock the door. I did not want Daph to go to her room alone. I still did not trust the new foreman father had hired. He lived down stairs in the servant’s quarters. I thought Daph was safer in my room. My room had a sturdier door than her room. An added incentive was that I had a lock on my door. 

I was almost out the door when Father called me into his study. Tonight of all nights Father wanted to give me one of his grandiose lectures on my responsibility to the family name. I sat in the stiff backed chair as my Father paced back in forth in front of me. I listened as he talked and talked. I had long reasoned there was nothing Father liked better than hearing the sound of his own voice. Tonight’s lecture included his speech on the importance of my attending Dartmouth or Brown. In his words *two fine institutions.* Two educational institutions that I had no interest in attending yet I had given him my word that I would attend. 

My mind was far from his lecture. I was thinking ahead to the moment I could be back in the presence of Major Kinney. My thoughts drifted to fanciful imaginations of holding his hand and placing kisses on his cheeks as we walked the banks of Peachtree Creek. I glanced at the clock in the corner of Father’s study it was almost half past the hour and Father showed no signs of winding down his lecture. If I did not leave soon I would be late for my assignation with Major Kinney.   
\-------------------- 

As I rode to meet Brian I saw dark clouds off in the horizon. Georgia storms could creep up suddenly. Brian was waiting when I arrived. I pulled my Bay up to his Stallion. He raised one of his elegant eyebrows, “You are late Mr. Taylor.” 

“I’m sorry sir. My Father decided to tell me his plans for my future. He gets a little long winded when he’s planning my life,” I was irritated but I hoped my statement came out in a teasing manner. 

Brian gave me his little half-smile smirk as he guided his large horse beside me. I kept up with his steady gait. 

“What are your Father’s plans for your future?” 

I grimaced, “He wants me to attend Dartmouth, get a degree in business and take over the factory.” 

“That’s what your Father wants you to do. What do you want to do?” 

I let a wistful smile flit across my face, “I would like to travel. Visits the great art museums and opera houses.” 

Brian stared at me. He had that half smile-smirk on his face I was becoming used to. “If you get the money you should travel to Europe. I think you would like it.” 

”Have you ever traveled abroad, Major Kinney?” 

“When we are alone you may call me Brian,” he told me softly. I gave him a smile as he continued talking. “Yes, when I was young, a little older than you are I spent a few months in Europe. Once when I was idealistic I wanted to live abroad. They are more open minded and accepting of certain inclinations and desires. Ah Youth,” he said derisively. “I was so young and naive then. So full of fanciful dreams. Now I just want open plains and solitude. When my commission with the service is over I’m going out to the Western Territories.” 

Just the thought of going to Europe excited me beyond words. The fact he been there and was now going to live in a wild undiscovered place was so exiting and adventurous. 

“Oh that must be Grand! To have traveled. To be bold and brave enough to move to the Western Territories. But it’s so dangerous! I read that the territories are filled with wild savages running naked scalping and killing settlers.” 

Brian laughed at my naivety. “Yes, there are Indians in the territories and there have been some skirmishes between them and the settlers. Although I think there is more fiction to the stories that are brandied about than fact. The danger of the Indian uprisings does not change my decision to move there. After the war it’s going to take more than Indians to frighten me from moving out there.” 

“You are going to live out there? In the wild?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

I was quiet for a moment. Just the idea of moving far away from my parents was so appealing. Moving to a land that was inaccessible to them. I could not see my Father or Mother coming out to an uncivilized land. That one fact made the Western Territories very appealing.

For a while we rode in silence. We rode side by side along the Peachtree Banks. The sky became overcast as I led Brian around the Peachtree Creek Area and the wind picked up a little rustling the trees. We stopped occasionally as Brian asked questions about the surrounding homes and plantations. Mostly we stayed along the Creek area that was not visible to homes and plantations. I watched as Brian squatted and examine something along the banks. A flag had been erected to mark the spot where Colonel Stockwell had been found. He pushed back some wet brush and leaves and picked up something. It looked like a piece of cloth. Brian examined it, then folded it and stuffed it in his pocket.

I was curious. “Did you find something Maj—Brian?” It felt strange but sort of intimate saying his first name. 

“I didn’t find anything important.” He gave me the first genuine smile I’d ever seen as he looked at me. “I like hearing the sound of my name – on your lips.”   
I almost fell off my horse. Not so much as what he said but how it was said. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me. For all Ethan’s romantic words they didn’t hold the same power as the few words Brian just said. 

The wind that had been blowing steadily since we left the edge of town suddenly picked up force. Brian stood up and looked in the direction of the wind. Thunder could be heard rumbling in the distance. 

“That storm is moving fast.” He looked around. 

We were a couple of miles away from town and certainly couldn’t seek shelter at my home. As I was contemplating this I felt the first drops of rain. 

“Come on. I know a place we can wait out the approaching storm.” 

I showed Brian to a spot that only me, Daph and a few others knew existed. Dismounting we led our horse through the covering. We pushed back the heavy vine leaves and moved through a narrow leaf covered entry until we reached a large cavernous opening. The opening was actually a small shed that had been neglected and forgotten. Over the years vines and leaves had covered it until it had virtually blended in to the landscape. 

I lit the candles as Brian walked around inspecting the small shack. It smelled damp and a little moldy. The candles cast a yellow glow over the small room. The wood floor was covered with straw, dirt, and leaves. The walls were caked with soot and dirt. The sound of the powerful wind and rain could be heard beating against the shack. 

The only furniture in the shack was a table and small wooden stool. Although the table was sturdy enough to hold my weight it did wobble. I brushed some dirt out of the way and hopped up on the table. I swung my legs back and forth as I waited on Brian to finish his perusal of the shed.

“Who owns this place?”

“I don’t really know. It’s just an old forgotten and abandoned shed. Daph and I came across it one day while picking muscadines off the vines outside. Before and during the war it was used as a hideout for runaway slaves.”

“How do you know that?”

I boasted, “Daph and I came across some slaves in here one day. It was right before the war broke out. An overseer was looking for them. We distracted the overseer to get him away from this place so they wouldn’t be found. Daph and I were very proud of that.”

“That was a very honorable and dangerous undertaking on your part and Daph’s.”

I was solemn for a moment. “When you live with something as a way of life you don’t look at it very closely. My Uncle Rodney had a very significant impact on my life. He showed me the indignity and horror of slavery. And when I learned that Daph was my sister I became more and more convinced that slavery was wrong and should be abolished.”

“You and Daph did a very brave thing. I am proud of you,” he said sincerely.

I basked in his praise. I let my eyes wander over Brian’s body. He looked so dashing in his uniform. I imagined that he looked great in anything he put on. Brian walked toward me. My eyes never left his. He stood in front of me and I leaned my head back to focus on his face.

He glanced around the shed again before letting his eyes rest on my face. “I would have imagined this was a place where wayward lovers met. Have you ever brought a lover here Justin?”

My name rolled off his tongue like a caress. I swallowed nervously, “Ah, No. No, Brian I haven’t.”

He moved closer to me. I could smell him. The scent of the horse clung to the fabric of his clothes. I could smell a sweet tobacco smell also and then there was this fresh woodsy smell. Perhaps his soap or lather he used to shave. I loved the combined smells on him. His tongue peeked out between his luscious lips and then disappeared behind them. My eyes followed the movement. I knew my breathing increased. My palms felt sweaty. 

“Have you ever had a lover before, Justin?”

I swallowed nervously and answered, “Yes. When I was in New York.”

Brian moved even closer until his thighs touched my knees. He pushed my thighs open and stood between them. I slid back on the table. My inner thighs touched his. The pose seemed so intimate. More intimate than I had ever been with a man before. I could feel the heat radiating from Brian’s body.

“Tell me about him?”

He said it so softly it took me a few seconds to realize he said him and not her. I gasped. He knew.

“W-what d-do you…” I was stammering incoherently. 

He traced a long finger down the side of my face stopping at the corner of my lip. I almost swallowed my tongue. The sensation was more intense than anything I’d ever felt before.

“It’s okay. You’re safe with me.” He promised.

His eyes held no deceit only interest. I believed him. I took a deep breath and answered his question, “His name was Ethan Gold. He was a great violinist. He wanted to play for the orchestra when he graduated. I met him when I was thirteen. He was sixteen. He seemed so worldly. He had already been to Europe.”

“What did you and Ethan do when you were alone together?”

“We would lay together and touch and hold hands and kiss. I listened to Ethan tell me about the great life he would lead when he joined the New York orchestra.” 

Brian leaned in his breath was hot against my ear. I was rock hard in seconds. Brian whispered in my ear, “Where did he touch you?”

I gulped down air. “My hair, my hands, my face and sometimes we’d rub each other through our pants in our private parts.”

Brian leaned in closer. His lips touched my ear they were soft, smooth and warm against my skin. Then I realized that his hands were on the fastening of my trousers slowly releasing each one. His husky voice distracted me.

“How did it feel?”

I was trying to concentrate on his words but all I could think about was those long slender fingers releasing my pants. Brain’s voice and warm breath on the side of my face, near my ear brought me back to his question.

“What did you feel Justin?”

I thought about what I felt for Ethan. It was nothing like the emotions that were wrecking havoc on my body right now. I tried to answer Brian’s question. “Ethan evoked very gentle, soft, sweet feelings in me.”

Brian scoffed, “Do not worry Sunshine those are not emotions I intend evoking in you.”

Before his words were out of his mouth his hands eased inside my underwear and gripped me in his tight fist just as his other hand gripped my neck and he pulled my face to his locking his lips with mine. He was right soft and gentle were not the emotions he was invoking in me.


	4. Lifetime Of Memories

I was lost in the taste of Brian. I’d never been kissed like this before. With such raw need….and lust and abandon. He was right he didn’t invoke those sweet, soft feelings in me that Ethan did. The feelings he invoked in me had to be sinful. I was literally drowning in pleasurable sensations. Brian’s long tongue caressed every crevice of my mouth. His tongue was relentless in its exploration of my mouth. And I was overwhelmed by the sensation. My hands twined in his thick chestnut hair and I clung to him. His hands slowly trailed from my pants to the buttons on my shirt. He pulled away from me. I was dizzy and disoriented. I know I let out a strangled cry of regret. 

I heard his deep laugh, “Don’t worry Sunshine. I just want to see the rest of you.”

I blushed as his eyes wondered over me. My shirt was open exposing my chest. The tip of my manhood peaked from the opening of my long johns. My eyes followed Brian’s every movement as he slowly pushed my shirt from my shoulders.

“Lift up,” he ordered.

I lifted my hips off the table and he pulled my pants and underwear down to my ankles. The table was cold and hard against my backside. Brian bent down and tugged off my boots tossing them aside my clothing followed. I blushed. No man had ever seen me naked since I’d grown hair on my manhood. Not even Ethan. Brian licked his lips as his eyes burned into mine and then swept over my body. I felt something leak from my manhood. I could feel my ears burn with embarrassment. I looked down to see the moisture leaking from the slit of my manhood.

Brian’s long slender fingers trailed down my body. I thought I’d faint from the unknown feelings that suffused my entire body. I shut my eyes. I was too embarrassed to look at Brian. He would have none of my shyness.

“Open your eyes, Justin.”

Again I did as I was ordered. Brian trailed his hands from my shoulder to my chest. He stopped to pinch my nipples. I shuddered in pleasure. The next thing I knew his lips had replaced his fingers and I lost control of all rational thought. Brian’s tongue flicked the hard nipples over and over again until I was begging for the unknown and moaning like an idiot.

My hands gripped Brian’s head and I tried to hold him to my chest. The pleasure was so intense. Brian had other ideas. He trailed his tongue down to play in my navel. I was no longer thinking I was only feeling. The sounds coming from my mouth were no longer comprehensible. I was nothing but feelings……deeply pleasurable intense sensations. My body tingled everywhere Brian’s fingers touched and his tongue licked. 

He dropped to his knees and looked up at me. I should have known from the wicked lascivious smile he gave me what he was about to do would make me do exactly what all those women in the romance novels did…..*swoon.* 

Without warning Brian gripped my hips and his mouth engulfed my manhood in one swoop. I heard a shout of pleasure and realized it was mine. His mouth was slick and hot. His tongue trailed all along my manhood branding it as his. I could feel my manhood leaking but Brian didn’t pull his mouth away. He just sucked…and sucked…..and sucked as I moaned and groaned and moaned. If not for Brian’s hands keeping me firmly on the table I would have bucked off and we would both have ended up on the floor. I wrapped my hands in his head and held him to my manhood. What he was doing had to be a powerful sin because the ecstasy it was creating was beyond description. My legs were trembling and my breathing was heavy and harsh. I felt as if my eyes were rolling in the back of my head.

“Brian…..“ I moaned.

I didn’t know what I was asking for but I wanted something…..else. Brian knew what I needed. His mouth, tongue and lips waged an assaulted of pleasure against my manhood. The storm waging outside our little love shed was nothing compared to what was happening in here. I didn’t think I could take much more pleasure when Brian cupped my balls in his hands and massaged them. A long shudder went through my body. The blinding rainbow of pleasure suffused my senses. My hands gripped his hair tightly and my manhood jerked and I could feel the issues spurting forth thick and heavy into his waiting wet, warm mouth. I thought Brian would pull back or be angry with me for spilling my issues in his mouth. He wasn’t. He swallowed it all. Sucking and sucking me until I was dry. My manhood was limp and slick when it slipped from his mouth…from between his beautiful lips. I finally opened my eyes and looked down at him. He was wearing a sexy smirk. He looked so please with himself. He licked his lips. 

“Mmmm. You taste good Sunshine. Let me show you.”

I didn’t know what he meant until he kissed me his tongue entering my mouth. I tasted the saltiness on his tongue and realized it was me. It was so sinful to taste myself. So naughty. I loved it. I sucked on Brian’s tongue vigorously lapping up my own juices. Brian broke our kiss. I moaned in distress. I wanted more. 

“Don’t move Sunshine.” 

Was he kidding? I couldn’t move if I wanted to. My legs were mush and my brain had long stopped functioning. I watched in a haze of pleasure as Brian retrieved a blanket from his horse. He pushed together some straw and leaves in a pile and laid the blanket on top of it. He came back to the table and lifted me in his strong arms and laid me on the makeshift bedding. I laid down and stared up at him curiously. He slowly disrobed. First he pulled off his boots and socks. Then his jacket and pants. Finally his underwear. And as I had imagined he was beautiful. My manhood was hard again just looking at his body. My lustful thoughts should have shamed me instead they only heighten my excitement.

Brian’s body was a work of art. It was long, lean and muscled. His shoulders and chest were well defined and muscled. I could see the muscles outlined in his stomach. There was angry pink scar than ran from his stomach down to the top of his scar. It still didn’t distract from Brian’s physical beauty. His arms were tanned and the muscles rippled beneath the skin. On his wrist was a cowry shell bracelet. I remember seeing shells like those in my uncle’ s African collection. I idly wondered why Brian wore a bracelet made up of those shells but my mind was on other things. Brian’s thighs were long and thickly muscled. His manhood was one of the largest I’d ever seen. I’d worked in the army hospital. It had been my job to bathe the men. Even I knew Brian’s manhood was most impressive. 

My eyes were riveted on it. It was long and thick and was surrounded by thick chestnut hair. I licked my lips. I wanted to put it in my mouth the way he’d done my mine. I leaned up and ran a finger across it. It jumped. The slit was leaking. I rubbed my finger across it gathering up the moisture. I brought my finger to my mouth to taste Brian’s issue. It tasted salty and earthy. I sucked my finger in my mouth. I heard a moan and looked up to see Brian’s eyes glazed with what I now knew was lust. I leaned up and kissed the tip of his manhood and licked at the slit. He moaned deeply. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back. I looked up confused. He must have saw the look of confusion on my face.

“Next time. Sunshine, “ he whispered. “Next time.”

I noticed the small vial of oil he had in his hand. He rubbed it on his manhood then slicked his finger with it. Brian came down on top of me. He pushed me into the bedding and lifted my hips. He placed my legs around his waist. I felt a little exposed with my ass in the air. Brian’s oiled finger touched my hole. I pulled back and squirmed.

“Just relax,” he soothed rubbing my hip.

He distracted me with a kiss. I felt his finger entering my asshole. It wasn’t painful it was just a pressure I wasn’t used to. I tried to concentrate on the kiss and not the pressure in my ass. I felt my ass quiver as Brian moved his finger in and out. Then he added another one. I groaned. It was a little painful but I’d do anything to be with Brian. If this was what he wanted I’d give it to him. I took a deep breath and kissed Brian with all I had. Trying to ignore the pressure and pain in my ass. Brian continued to move his fingers in and out of my ass. I slowly became use to the intrusion of his fingers. 

I felt Brian lift my hips. I felt the blunt tip at the opening of my ass. Before I could completely ascertain what was happening Brian entered my ass in one single thrust. My hard manhood deflated immediately. I squeezed my eyes shut. I gasped in pain. My ass felt as if it was being torn in two. I dug my fingers into his side and tried to pant through the pain. I felt the tears trailing down my cheeks. I tried to brush them away. I was embarrassed. I didn’t want Brian to think I was a child that cried over the smallest pain. I opened my eyes and Brian was staring down at me. He brushed the tears from my cheeks.

“Now take a deep breath and relax,“ he instructed. I did. “It’s always painful the first time. Each time it will get better. I promised.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

Brian inched out and back in the tightness of my asshole. I could feel my ass clenching his manhood as he thrust in and out of me. His thrusts became quicker burying his dick fully inside of me with each thrust. I kissed him. Brian’s kisses were so addictive. So delicious. I realized my manhood was hard again and Brian was touching something deep inside of my ass that was creating the most wondrous pleasure. I felt hot and sweaty and I realized I was lifting my hips to meet Brian’s thrusts. 

Brian’s thrusts were becoming deeper touching that place inside of my ass that was causing the most delicious pleasure. My moans of pleasure were mixing with Brian’s deep groans. My hands roamed through Brian’s hair and over his hard body as Brian’s hands held my hips. Brian’s breathing was heavy and harsh. His kisses were hot, wet and he sucked frantically on my tongue. His hands gripped my ass and he thrust in and out. He reached around grabbed my hard manhood and started stroking it to the rhythm of his thrust. His thrusts were faster deeper. His breathing, heavier and harsher. His thighs slapped against mine the sound reverberated around us. My body tensed. I shuddered and screamed his name in the same instance as I heard my name escape his lips. 

A haze of pleasure temporarily blinded me. It was like a rainbow burst behind my eyes. The pleasure was so intense. My juices coated our stomach and chests. Before my juices stopped I could feel the hot spurts of Brian’s juices feeling my ass. I could feel my ass muscle contract against Brian’s manhood squeezing more of his juices from it.

Brian collapsed on top of me. His mouth against the side of my neck. His breath warm and teasing against my skin. I held his sweaty body tightly. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I Justin Taylor had known a man in the *biblical sense* and if this was a sin then let me sin and sin again.  
\------------------------

Journal Entry  
Justin Taylor  
Monday, 25th September 1865

I have been duped. Played the fool. Discarded like a soiled dove. I still remember that Thursday night like it was last night. Meeting up with Brian. The sudden storm driving us to the abandoned shed. Making love. Lying in the arms of my lover. Stroking my fingers over his body. 

I couldn’t believe what we had done. The wickedness of our pleasure. My ass hurt mightily but I would have gladly done what he wanted again just to be close to him. I’d allow him to do to my body what he may as long as it would keep him close to me. We’d talked a little. Quietly I’d asked him questions about what we’d done. He had some very crude names for our body parts and for the beautiful things he’d done to me. He called our manhood cocks. He told me when he’d taken me in his mouth it was called cock sucking. He’d called the moisture leaking from us……our seed or cum. And instead of calling what we’d done together as making love he’d called it fucking. 

He also told me some most disturbing facts that men like us…sodomites would say anything to get their cocks sucked and to fuck a nice ass. He told me to always remember that. Of course I promised that I would. Twas quite a night of education. He’d also sternly warned me never to tell anyone what we had done. I gave him my solemn promise I’d never divulge our intimate secrets….not even to Daphne. 

I asked him about his bracelet. He told me about his family’s house maid Sarai, a freedwoman. Brain said growing up Sarai was the one that nursed him through illness, gave him praise for his grades and showed him affection. Sarai had spent more time with him and his sister than his parents. She’d made him the bracelet of cowry shells the year he left for military school. He said his parents hadn’t bothered to give him anything but a stern warning not to embarrass them. Sarai had died while he was away at school and his parents didn’t tell him until he returned home on break. He said he’d never forgiven them for that. I didn’t think I’d like his parents much if I ever met them.

My curiosity got the better of me and I asked him about the scar on his abdomen. He cringed. He only told me it was a wound from the war. A wound that should have killed him but it didn’t. I didn’t ask anymore questions. 

After our talk Brian had fallen asleep so deeply I didn’t want to wake him. I laid cuddled close to him listening to his breathing and memorizing every freckle, scar and line on his body. A couple of hours before dawn I woke him. He kissed me thoroughly and painful ass or not I wanted him to touch me again. I was bold enough to tell him so. He smiled and told me in a day or two when my ass wasn’t so sore.

We’d slowly dressed and made our way back. As I was about to mount my horse Brian reached his hand down. I can still remember his words. “Come here Sunshine. I want you close to me for a little longer.” He lifted me on his horse. I sat across his thighs. He escorted me home. I loved being so close to him. At the edge of our property he kissed me senseless and lifted me from his horse. He promised to send word to me at the factory later that day. I put away my horse and climbed the tree, into my window, into my room. Daphne was asleep in my bed. I slowly undressed. I noticed a few spots of pink in my underwear I paid it no mind. I pulled on clean underwear and climbed under the covers with Daph. My head was filled with love poems I would write all centered on my lover, Brian Kinney.

Of course I never heard from him. After two days I’d gotten enough nerve to ask one of the soldiers if Major Kinney was in his office. I was told Major Kinney had left Georgia and probably would not return. I cried myself to sleep every night. I couldn’t eat and I barely slept. I was suffering a broken heart. I have decided to swear off love. If love causes such hideous pain.  
\--------------------

We were lying in the hayloft avoiding mother. My mother had decided that today she would inventory all of our wardrobes and order new clothing. She had set up an appointment for me at the tailor's. She promised Daph that she would have a few of her dresses altered for Daph's smaller and shorter frame. I couldn’t wait until the day that I could buy Daph a new dress all her own. All of Daph’s dresses and shoes to this point had been hand me downs from my mother. Daph deserved dresses made especially for her. Daph and I had finally managed to get away from mother and were hiding out in the loft. I knew Mother would never venture out here. 

We were lying on our backs talking. I was chewing on a straw. I was in a melancholy mood. I hadn't seen Brian since the night we'd made love or in his words fucked. He told me he'd see me later in the day. I hadn't seen him or talked to him in four days. I believe he used me. He told me that men like us would say or do what it took to get our *cocks* sucked and fuck a nice *ass* I guess it's a lesson that I'm learning the hard way.

I thought that the night was so special. I thought that we had connected on a deep level. He just wanted to fuck me. My second attempt at love and I was worst than I was that Christmas in 1860 when I came home and found out I would not be returning to New York. I was so sad knowing I wouldn't see Ethan for a long time or maybe even ever. I was hurt and angry when Ethan never answered my letters. I got over it quickly. I didn't think I 'd get over this. I'd let Brian in my body. I blushed thinking of the intimate things we did to each other. The places we kissed each other. He had my cock and what he called my balls in his mouth sucking them. He sucked my cock so hard that I shot juices and he drank them down and told me it was delicious. That I was delicious. He even kissed me and I tasted myself on his lips. How can he just dismiss what we shared? 

I loved him so much. I missed him. I missed hearing his voice. I wanted to do all the things we did to each other again. He promised me that I could put his cock in my mouth the next time. He promised me that he'd come by the factory the next day and see me. I’d actually wept over him like those women in the novels Daph and I were always reading. How pathetic could I be?

"Are you thinking about him again?" I could tell she was clearly irritated. "Why don't you march right in that army building and ask to see him?"

"I can't do that Daph!"

She sat up and looked down on me. "Why not? He sent a summons to your house asking to see you. If the soldiers ask why you are there tell them you have something to tell him."

I looked up at Daph. "No. If he wants to see me he knows where I am."  
I tossed away the straw I had been chewing on. "Com' on. We've hidden away from my Mother long enough."

BRIAN  
I was in a foul mood and everyone around me knew it. I'd spent four fucking days traveling between Atlanta and Alabama following up on a lead that went no where. The man they were holding in Alabama had no idea about what had happened to Stockwell. Besides he had a verifiable alibi for the time Stockwell was killed. It checked out. I was still looking into a few things I found or learned from talking to the Soldiers and some of the people living around the Peachtree Creek area.

I checked my pocket watch. I wanted to get out of here and find Justin. He's all I thought about the last four days. I pushed the men hard to and from Alabama. I didn't want to go but once I realized I had to I wanted to make the trip as quickly as possible. We got back late last night. Almost morning. I was tempted to go to his house and toss stones at his window like some fool in love. The thought made me shudder. Justin and I were men. Men didn’t love each other. I was able to restrain myself. 

I dreamed of Justin’s perfect ass and thick fresh pink cock all night. I could still feel my cock sinking into that tight pink puckered hole slicked by the oil I used. He was so tight, so moist, and so warm. I shook the thoughts from my head. I had work to do. Now was not the time to be thinking about Justin. I spent a few minutes trying to concentrate on the notes in front of me and finally gave up. I walked to the door and called for the solider assigned to assist me. 

"Schmidt go to Taylor's factory and tell Mr. Justin Taylor I need to see him. I have questions for him."

"I thought you spoke with him last week sir."

I gave Schmidt my death stare. I watched as he visibly shrunk away from me. "Never question my command again. Is that clear?" My voice was so cold ice icicles were forming on the words I spoke.

"Y-yes s-s-sir. I'll go get him immediately."

I watched the drab soldier quickly leave. As he was walking out the door a young woman walked in. She was a beautiful woman. Small, with curly reddish brown hair pulled back into a braid, chocolate colored eyes and smooth clear skin. Her dress was a simple calico dress with a white collar. It was a little faded but clean.   
She walked right up to me and stared up at me. "I’d like to speak with you Major sir. Alone if possible."

I was a little shocked at her boldness but I didn’t let it show. I stepped backed and held the door open. She stepped through and I closed the door. I offered her a seat and she declined. I sat at my desk.

"Well, Miss what can I do for you?"

"I want to know what your intentions are concerning my brother?"

Blunt and to the point. I liked this girl. I studied her closely. This was Justin's sister. The daughter that his father would never claim. She was a bold outspoken little thing and very protective of her brother. They had that in common. I doubted very seriously if he knew she was here.

"Did Justin send you here?" I had to ask.

She snorted, "Of course not. He'd tan my hide if he knew I was here."

I smiled. I could imagine the slight young man trying to spank this small girl, but if she was this impulsive maybe a spanking was called for.

"You know it's not nice to know someone in the *biblical sense* and then not even come see that person."

I had to smile. She and Justin both used the same terms about fucking. I was concerned. I tried to stress to Justin how important it was that no one knew what we had done. He obviously did not heed my words. Not if his sister was standing here wanting to know my intentions. I almost smiled at the absurdity.

"Did Justin tell you I'd known him in the biblical sense?"

"Of course not. He'd never say something like that to me. He thinks my ears are too tender to hear words like that. He just told me he liked you. He spent the entire night out with you. I know I slept in his room that night. He didn’t get home into almost daylight. I figured out the rest. Justin would be livid if he knew the things I've heard about…..well you know….,” she leaned forward and whispered, “what men and women did in the biblical sense.” She paused and said thoughtfully more to herself, “I’m not sure what men do to men.” She shrugged coming to a conclusion. “It must be the same thing.” She then trained those beautiful chocolate brown eyes on me. “Anyway, I know that the first time is painful and you bleed and you are sore. Justin had blood in his underwear and he soaked in the tub a long time in hot water and he was walking stiffly.” 

Damn. He bled. I sort of knew he had. It sometimes happen no matter how gentle you are with a man the first time. Justin wasn't my first virgin but he was the first one I actually cared about whether I hurt. He was so tight and I've been told I'm more that large for the average man. I hated the fact that he had been sore for days.

"Is he okay?"

"Yes. He’s just miserable because you didn't come to see him. He loves you."  
It took all my training not to scoff at her ridiculously romantic ideas. Men didn’t love men.

"How do you know that?" I asked.

She let out a sigh as if she was talking to a dunce, "Because I can see it in his face."

I nodded. 

"It might please you to know Daphne that I've sent for your brother. I have a few questions I need to ask him about the murder."

"Well stop wasting your time on that and start asking him questions about more important things."

I couldn't help but ask. "And those important things would be....?"

She let out a dramatic sigh. I could see she and her brother both would have quite a career in theatrical arts if they wanted. Both had quite a flair for melodrama. "Those important things would be making up to Justin. He's no fun when he's moping around all day."

I had to fight off the smile that was threatening to curve my lips. "I'll see what I can do about that. For now young lady I think you may want to get back home. I'm sure Justin would be concerned if he learned that you had left unescorted."

"Yeah, he would. I better get back to the factory. The last time I sneaked off without telling him it went badly. He took all of my romance periodical for an entire month! I like to have died from boredom!"

She was definitely Justin’s sister. They both had a flair of melodrama  
"Well, allow me to escort you back to the factory. I wouldn't want Justin to worry about you unduly."

There was a knock on the door. 

"Enter," I said. 

I stepped from around the desk to greet my guest. If I was right it would be Justin. It was. He walked through the door looking a little anxious and worried. When he saw Daph I could see the relief wash over his face to instantly be replaced with anger.

"I was worried about you! I've been looking all over for you! Do you know how scared I was when you didn't come right back?" He asked angrily. He walked up to her. It looked as if he was debating with himself whether to hug her or spank her. The hug won out. He wrapped his arms around her and they both hugged. Probably realizing they were not alone. He stepped away from her.

"I wasn't gone that long," she said sheepishly. She touched his arm. "I didn't mean to worry you. I just wanted to talk to the Major."

Schmidt was still standing in the door listening to everything. I decided to butt into the family melodrama. "Justin I need to speak with you...alone. Schmidt will you escort Ms. Daphne out and stay with her while I speak with Mr. Taylor."

"Of course sir." He held the door open for Daphne.

"You're in a lot of trouble," he told Daphne. She gave him an innocent smile. I didn't think she was too worried about her punishment.

The door shut behind them leaving me and Justin in the office. I leaned back against the table serving as my desk. For a while we just stared at each other. It felt so good just to see him again. The time I spent away from him I had convinced myself that he wasn't as beautiful as I remembered. He wasn't as slim. His body wasn't as lithe or lean as I recalled. His eyes weren't as blue, his hair wasn’t as blonde and his lips not as full and pink. Looking at him I realized I was right. He was more beautiful than I could ever remember.

I decided to make this short. I didn't need a long drawn out melodramatic scene. "I had to leave for Alabama to check out a lead about the Stockwell murder. I wanted to send word to you but it wasn't feasible." The smile that spread across his face let me know I'd made the perfect decision.

"I thought that you didn't want to see me again," he admitted breathlessly.

I realized it wasn't advisable but I didn't care. All I'd thought about for four days was sinking my tongue and my dick into the orifices of his body and now that I had him this close to me I couldn't resist. I pulled him to me opening my legs to get him as close to me as possible.

"What the hell gave you that idea," I got out before I sunk my tongue in his mouth. I gave him no warning my tongue was just in his mouth tasting, assaulting exploring. I don't know if it was his sigh or mine that floated between us. His kisses were still more enthusiasm than experienced but for some perverse reason it had my cock rock hard. I gripped his hips and pulled him to me as I ground our cocks together. Justin's hands were as busy as mine. They were all over my body roaming over my back and up to my hair and gripping my shoulders as my tongue and lips assaulted his mouth. I knew what we were doing was dangerous but I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop it. Justin finally pulled back and reluctantly I allowed him.  
"I missed you," he whispered.

I leaned back to look into his face, "I can tell," I smiled smugly.

He just kept looking at me like he wanted to eat me up. Which wasn't a bad idea. I did promise him that I'd teach him how to suck my cock. That was a promise I had every intention of keeping. I ran my hands down his ass and gripped it tightly.

"How are you? Still sore?"

He blushed, "Ah, no."

"Ready for another lesson?" If possible his blush deepened.

"Yes, please."

My boy certainly had manners. I was going to reward him handsomely. I pulled him forward and sunk my tongue deeply in his mouth one more time. I twirled my tongue around his mouth brushing against his teeth and the roof of his mouth before nibbling on his lips familiarizing myself once again with the natural taste of him. It was sweet and tangy I broke the kiss and trailed small kisses up to his ear.

"Tonight at 10:00 p.m. meet me at the Creek."

"Don't you want to meet at the shack?"

He seemed perplexed by my choice of meeting places. He was obviously horny and wanted me to suck his dick and fuck his ass. He'd get that but tonight I was going to add a little something else to his new experiences. I ran a finger down the side of his face, "We'll make it there but I want to take a swim in the creek." 

I wanted to eat his ass. I had dreams of opening up those perfect creamy lobes to the puckered little pink hole of his ass and liking, sucking and eating his little ass hole until he screamed for mercy. But first we were going to take a little dip in the cool creek. I'd brought him a little gift while in Mississippi. It was a bar of primrose scented milled soap. I had been imagining smelling it on him for the last few nights. Tonight I'd finally get a chance to do just that.

"I'm not much of a swimmer. Daphne is a much better swimmer than I am."

"Don't worry you'll be with me. I'll keep you floating."

"Well if we are going to swim we need to move closer to the shack. It's more secluded in that spot."

"Then I'll meet you there tonight." His smile lit up my day.

"Yes."

I pushed him away from me before I lost control. I opened the door and escorted him out. I watched as he grabbed Daphne’s hand and left building. Schmidt turned to say something. I shut the door on what ever question Schmidt was about to ask me. I took a deep breath and walked around to look out the window. It was going to be a very long day


	5. Lifetime Of Memories

Journal Entry  
Monday 25th of September 1865  
Brian A. Kinney

The Stockwell investigation lingers on. At least I am back in Georgia after following a fruitless lead to Alabama. Something has paid off. The laundress was able to clean the piece of cloth I found at the Peachtree Creek. It is a light blue cotton material with yellow pansies. I’ve been told by the laundress that the fabric is quite common among serving women and farms wives. The laundress has also told me she knows the fabric has not been sold since the beginning of the war almost four years ago. She advised me to check with Mr. Johnson the owner of the general store he should have a list of the ladies that ordered or bought yardage from that bolt of fabric.

I checked with the general store owner Mr. Johnson. As much as he despised helping a Yankee soldier he gave me a list of 28 women that have bought the fabric. The fabric has not been sold since the war began. I’ve crossed out many of the women on the list due to their age. I discounted any woman that lives over 35 miles from the creek. I also crossed out 10 women that I have been told have died. I have narrowed the list to 8 families that I need to talk to. The Taylor’s name appears on the list. 

I have received another bit of information I must follow. The laundress also mentioned that Colonel Stockwell liked loose women, liquor and cards and all can be found at a little non descript building just outside of town. I’ve seen the building many times and dismissed it. I’m told that the place does its best business after 10:00 p.m. when most of the town is asleep. I shall ask around and find out more about this new development.

The laundress has become a source of information to me in a place where even the soldiers are uncomfortable around me. It doesn’t hurt that I pay her for her information. Money always seems to loosen lips.  
************

 

I laid my pen down. That was enough writing in my journal for one night. At least it gave my continued association with Justin some validation. The troops won’t think a lot of it when they see us together if they thought I was still questioning him about his knowledge of Stockwell’s death. Schmidt has already questioned my continued association with Justin. Although, after the look I gave him I’m assured he will never question me on anything again. I checked my watch. It was late. I had an assignation. 

\------------------

JUSTIN

Daphne and I had been disagreeing most of the night. I was trying to talk quietly to keep from waking my parents. Daphne was being difficult because I wouldn’t allow her to come to the creek with me.

“I haven’t been swimming in months. I won’t bother you and Brian. I just want to get out of the house. I haven’t had any fun lately. I just follow you to the warehouse everyday, read books and then it’s back home,” she pouted.

I knew Daphne was right. I’d been really busy lately with the factory helping Father and then Brian had come into my life. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with her. She was probably bored and feeling neglected.

“Daph, I don’t have time for your theatrics. I want you to stay in my room with the door locked. I promise tomorrow we’ll find something to do. We can go pick berries. Okay?” 

She pouted but relented, “Okay.”

I hugged her and kissed her on the forehead. “Good, I should be back before morning.”

I slipped out the window; climbed down the tree and made it to the place I’d tethered a horse earlier in the evening. I was determined nothing would make me miss my assignation with Brian.  
\-----------

BRIAN

Justin was late. I was beginning to believe his tardiness might be a pattern. I’d secured my horse when I first arrived. I had a blanket and my gun near me. I’d found a place close to the shack and well hidden. 

The time had allowed me to contemplate my life. I had been thinking about what would happen when my term of service was up. I would leave Atlanta and return to New York. I no longer considered it my home. There was nothing in New York for me. I would pack my belongings say my goodbyes and leave New York. After that it was on to the Western Territories. The last few days my mind had been going over the loneliness I would endure if I went to the territories alone. 

I knew I’d never ask Michael to move out to the territories with me. For one reason he’d never last. Michael was definitely a city boy. He was also a pampered, whining Mama's Boy. I couldn’t see myself spending my life with him. Plus I didn’t get a jolt from Michael when we were together. Fucking him was good, but I’d had better. I thought of all the lonely nights I’d spend in the territories setting up camp, building a cabin, and farming the land.

I leaned back in the grass and looked over the creek. The moon reflected on the ripples in the creek. Lately my mind had been straying to a small blond with bright blue eyes and a Sunshine smile. I had been thinking of changing my life. Maybe he could be one of those changes. It would be too dangerous to take him with me to stake my claim, but maybe after I had gotten settled, built a cabin, started the farm I could come back and get him. It would be hard arduous work carving out a living in the territories and eventually I’d need some help. Justin was slight but inside that slight youth was a backbone of steel and a strong will and determination. These were attributes that would certainly be needed in the wilderness of the territories. Plus Justin had some knowledge of farming the land and raising farm animals. He told me that at the beginning of the war he and Daphne had helped tended his mother’s small garden and taken over caring for the few farm animals that were left. Justin would be very helpful in building up the farm.

Although, I wouldn’t take him with me for the first year I was in the territories I couldn’t leave him here in Georgia. After my assignment here was over I’d take him back to New York with me. I would have to take Daphne too. Justin would never leave Georgia without her. They could stay with Justin’s uncle. If that wasn’t feasible they could stay with Ms. Debbie. 

I knew Debbie would take them in and watch over them. I let the thoughts float around in my mind. Now that the thoughts were there I felt sure of them. I consoled myself with the fact that I wasn’t in love I was just realistic. I was a man that enjoyed fucking. I knew it would be hard to find a partner in the wilderness of the territories. Taking Justin with me would be good sense. I wouldn’t have to go out looking for someone to fuck, which was a potentially dangerous prospect. At least by taking Justin with me I’d have a partner that I enjoyed fucking with me. I’d have someone to talk with that was intelligent and most importantly that I trusted. Justin was clean and free of disease since I was his only lover. Plus he could help around the farm. I realized I’d made my decision. Tonight after we’d fucked a few times, I’d ask Justin to come with me.

These thoughts were floating through my mind when I heard the sounds of a rider approaching. I stood up and watched Justin’s horse trot toward me. Justin’s blond hair glowed under the glow of the moon. Before his horse came to a complete stop he jumped down and ran into my arms literally throwing him self against me. I captured him in my arms lifting him up locking my lips with his, my tongue seeking entrance to the wet sweetness of his mouth.

Justin let out a soft moan as I greedily devoured his mouth. I was starved for him and I could tell he was starved for me. His fingers gripped my hair and held me tightly. Our kiss was carnal and needy. Justin broke the kiss, gulping in air. My mouth laced on his neck licking and kissing. He smelled of sweat and his own unique scent. I licked my way back up to his mouth. I pulled back and looked into his lust filled bright blue eyes.

“You’re late,” I admonished softly.

“Daphne was being difficult. She wanted to come with me.”

“I’m glad you left her at home. What I have in mind is only for two people.”

His smile lit up his face. “I hope I’m one of them.”

“Most definitely,” I assured him with a squeeze to his round ass.

I let him slide down my body taking a few moments to ground my hard cock into his and then finally I let his feet touch the ground. He leaned heavily against me. He was so new to passion even the slightest stimulation still left him a little weak in the knees. Eventually he straightened, turned and pointed to the lantern. 

“Do you think it’s wise to have a lantern? Aren’t you worried someone might see us?”

I shrugged. “We are too far from everything for the light to be noticed. Don’t worry I checked. No one is around.”

That seemed to assure him. I picked up his gift from the ground and handed it to him. It was wrapped in inexpensive brown paper and tied with straw twine. Justin turned it over in his hands a few times before looking up at me.

“What is this?”

I smirked, “Open it and find out.”

“Okay. Let’s sit down.”

I followed his lead and sat on the grassy banks. I watched a little impatiently as he slowly and meticulously opened the package making sure not to tear the paper or the bow. He pulled the edges of the paper apart to reveal the soap. First he looked a little confused. He looked up with me. There was a slightly hurt expression on his face.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” He asked his bottom lip quivering.

I let out a sigh. I wondered if I knew what I would be getting myself into taking him with me. He was certainly prone to theatrics. I debated my decision only for a split second. I pictured my life without him. The bleakness of it seemed to stretch out before me. My mind was made up theatrics and all I wanted him with me. He was still staring at me lips quivering, eyes watering when I put his mind at ease.

“You smell fine. It’s a gift. I know it’s not much but I liked the smell. It’s citrus. It comes from California where I hear it’s always sunny and bright. It reminded me of you.”

He sniffed the bar. “I like the smell.” 

Instantaneously his lip had stopped quivering, and his watery eyes became bright with lust. I had enough time to brace myself as he launched himself in my arms for the second time of the evening. I hugged him to me.

“If you like the way that smells you are going to love what I’m going to do with it and you,” I whispered in his ear.

He pulled back to look in my eyes, “What are you going to do with it and to me?” 

I stood up and pulled him with me. “We are going for a dip in the creek. Bring a bar of soap with you. I want to get you squeaky clean so we can try something new.”  
\----------------

 

JUSTIN

We were lying on grassy banks sweaty from our vigorous bouts of making love. Or in Brian’s words fucking. My head rested on Brian’s bare muscular chest, my hands drawing little patterns on his wet skin. Brian’s hands were playing in my hair. He was smoking a cheroot. I loved the dark rich smell of it. I watched the smoke drift in the air carried away by the warm night breeze.

We’d played in the water. The shallow end. I wasn’t a good swimmer and I refused to go too far in the water. Brian had lathered the soap in his hands and washed my body. I loved the light, clean, crisp smell of the citrus soap. Brian soaped the linen cloth he brought and used his finger to penetrate my hole. He kept working until he had two fingers deep in me and he moved them around over and over again. I was getting turned on just from that. Brian rinsed the soap from my body, pulled me out of the water and on to the bank. That’s when the real pleasure began.

I couldn’t believe what Brian had done to me. He’d made me get on all fours and trailed his tongue down my body. I though he’d stop but he pulled the cheeks of my ass apart. Then he did the most sinful thing. He put his tongue in my…ass. Over and over again until the pleasure from the stimulation was so intense I screamed and begged him for more. It was the most exquisite torture. I felt as if I was floating and suffused with pleasure. I had looked over my shoulder at one point and saw Brian’s face buried between the cheeks of my ass. It was the most decadent, pleasurable thing…most likely in the whole world. In all my imaginations on what it would be like to make love to a man the delicious wickedness of what Brian did to me never entered my mind. Just the thought of it made me blush. After I’d released my seed from the intense ecstasy of it Brian flipped me over on my stomach and said gruffly, “Suck me off.”

I’d gotten on my knees and took as much of his long cock in my mouth as I could. With his guidance I’d learned to control my gag reflex and take him deeply in my mouth until he slid down the back of my throat and my nose brushed the hair on his groin. I took his deep thrusts in my mouth and managed not to gag when he spilled him seed down my throat. I couldn’t swallow it all. It was so much. Some of it trailed out of my mouth and down my chin. After Brian had stopped thrusting his dick in my mouth he gingerly pulled his dick free from my mouth, dropped to his knees and licked his seed from around my mouth and chin. Then we kissed a long deep wet kiss.

Afterwards he made love to me. It was the gentleness of the first time. Brian was still patient and careful but his touches were firmer, he demanded more of a raw response. When he threw my legs over his shoulder and entered me, he pushed in so hard I teetered on the brink of pleasure and pain. Brian barely gave me a second to adjust to his thick length and width before he was thrusting in me deeply, forcefully. Only when my mind was so muddled with the mixed sensations of pleasure and pain, I didn’t know which, did Brian finally brush that sensitive spot inside of my ass and sent me hurtling over the edge into a white hot pleasure that left my body shaking from the sheer force of it.

We’d made love again a little slower, with more lingering touches, I muttered soft words of affection and Brian only muttered grunts. I realized Brian wasn’t a man that would mutter or whisper words of affection or love. He would probably show it but never utter it. I let out a contented sigh snuggled closer to my lover and began to drift off.

“I want you to come with me when I leave Georgia.”

For a moment I thought I was hearing things. Hearing the words that I hoped he’d say to me. I leaned up supporting my weight on my arms. 

“What did you say?” I whispered breathlessly. Suddenly I couldn’t seem to breath.

Brian sat up and so did I. His tanned chest glowed in the moonlight. He looked so beautiful. He reminded me of the Greek and Roman gods I’d seen pictures of. He didn’t answer me right away he inhaled his cheroot and slowly blew out the smoke.

“It won’t be easy at first. I’ve been thinking of Nevada or Arizona. Both are barely civilized but if we move near the border of either state we can easily get to California. I won’t have you completely in the wilderness. I’ll try to stake a claim as close to a fort or town as I can,” He inhaled his cheroot and blew out the smoke and quickly continued, “It won’t be easy and the living conditions will be harsh for a few years. If we stick with it I know we can build a good life together. I’ll protect you with my life, Justin. I’ll share everything I have with you. And of course, we will bring Daphne with us. For the first year you can stay in New York with her. Then it will be your decision whether you will allow her to come out to the territories with you.”

I had to interrupt Brian, “Why will I have to wait a year to go to the territories? I thought you wanted me to go with you?”

Smoke trailed out of Brian’s mouth as he talked, “I do want you to come with me to New York, but not the territories.” He saw the confusion on my face. He explained. “The first year in the territories will be the hardest. It will be harsh and dangerous. I want to spare you that. I’ll leave you in New York. You can stay with your uncle or with Miss Debbie and Uncle Vic. Miss Debbie is my best friend’s mother and Vic is his uncle. They are more like parents to me than my own. You can stay with them while I’m out in the territories. I’ll send…no I’ll come for you once I’ve built a home and planted our crops. Will you come with me?”

“N-No. I…I can’t.” I whispered miserably.

Brian seemed shocked, and then resigned by my answer. He stood and walked to the edge of the creek and looked out in to the thick brush. He looked so beautiful standing there bathed in the moonlight. Like a Greek sculpture. His naked body was a work of art. He was so comfortable in his nudity. While we made love I didn’t even think about my nakedness, but once it was over I became shy. I stooped down and pulled on my trousers. I came up behind him. For a while I looked into the vast thickness of the brush with him. It was time. Time to come clean. Time to tell the man I loved a horrible truth about me. Time to watch his eye fill with revulsion when he found out my secret. I took a deep breath. I touched Brian’s shoulder.

“I can’t go with you.” Brian flinched away from my touch. I dropped my hand and continued talking to him. “I made a deal with the devil.” Brian looked over at me confused. I smiled wanly, “My father and I made a deal. He promised to hold a secret if I promised to go to college, marry the woman he chose for me, and take over the factory. I gave up my freedom on that promise.”

Brian turned and looked down at me. His hazel eyes were unreadable, “What secret is worth your freedom?”

“One that if revealed would bring harm to Daphne.”

Brian arched his eyebrow, “What is the secret, Justin.”

I looked down at my toes that were wiggling in the damp grass. It took a few moments to garner my courage but I finally did, “You came here to investigate Colonel Stockwell’s death. I know who his murderer is.”

Brian lifted my chin with his finger, “Who is his murderer?” I could tell by Brian’s demeanor and the softness of his question he already knew my answer. I gave it to him anyway, “I killed Stockwell.”

I expect Brian to shove me away from him or look upon me with disgust but he still had the same unreadable expression on his face. He did not release my face.

“Why did you kill him?”

I shuddered. I tried to remain calm. I hadn’t told the whole story to anyone. Not even my father. I looked at Brian. His eyes were steady and calm. I held his gaze as I repeated the story. 

“I had promised Daphne that I would take her to the creek to swim. She loves swimming. She’s a very good swimmer. We usually slipped out the house late at night.” I closed my eyes and let the horrendous memories of that night come forth. I heard my voice, it sounded like it was coming through a tunnel. 

“I had promised Daphne we’d sneak out the house and go swimming. As we were preparing to leave my father knocked on my bedroom door. It was late and I didn’t want to talk with him. He was adamant that we talk. He was drunk. I could smell the liquor on his breath. I didn’t want to start an argument with him so I followed him to his study. He was in another one of his *plan my future moods.* After we went to the study he continued to drink. I told him I had no intentions of going to Dartmouth or any of the other colleges he’d chosen for me. I told him my plans for leaving Georgia and taking Daphne with me. He became angry and started shouting. I shouted back. I finally left him in the study cursing and yelling. I went back to my room and I couldn’t find Daphne. I knew she’d probably gone to the creek,” I paused. This was the part that always choked me up. I can still remember the panic and the fear. I let out a long sigh and continued. 

“When I made it to the creek I heard a scream. It was Daphne. She was struggling with Stockwell. Her dress was torn and he’d pent her to the ground. I screamed at him to let her up. He was surprised to see me and let Daphne go. She scrambled to her feet and ran to me. He laughed at us. He told me there was nothing I could do to stop him. That I was just a little pansy assed boy to cowardly to fight in the war. He advanced on me. I told Daphne to run,” I smirked thinking of how she stubbornly refused to leave me. “Anyway Daphne didn’t leave. She told me she’d never abandon me. Stockwell charged me like a wild animal and knocked me to the ground. We scuffled on the ground. He was so strong. He wrapped his hands around my neck and started chocking me. I couldn’t break his hold. Daphne jumped on his back and as he tried to shake her off I managed to kick him in the stomach, and he released his grip on my neck. I grabbed his gun from his holster. He stood up and so did I. I told him to just back off. He laughed in my face. He told me I didn’t have the guts to shoot him. Then he told me he was going to kill me and when he was through with Daphne she’d wish she was dead too. I would never allow anyone to harm Daphne. So, when he charged the second time I pointed and shot.” 

I could still hear the loudness of the shot…feel the burning and tingling in my fingers. I could still see the shock on Stockwell’s face as he realized he’d been shot. I could still see the blood oozing out of the wound. I let out a deep breath. I could feel Brian’s fingers soothingly massaging my scalp. I continued. My voice had gotten quieter. Now that I’d told the worst part of the story I wasn’t as agitated. 

“I dropped his gun and grabbed Daphne’s hand and got us out of there. The next day my father called me into his study. He’d followed me when I left the study the previous night. He saw me shoot Stockwell. He threatened to turn Daphne over to the army. He said he’d tell them that she had killed Stockwell. I told him I’d tell the army the truth that I had shot Stockwell. He laughed and said he would tell them that I was trying to protect her by taking the blame. He said everyone knew how protective I was of her. I believed him,” I shuddered as I recalled what he said next, “He told me that the army soldiers would use her and pass her around and then they would hang her. I couldn’t have that. I told him I’d do anything to protect Daphne. That’s when he told me what I’d have to do to protect Daphne. He told me if I went to the college of his choice, married the woman he chose and took over at the factory he’d remain silent. So, I made a pact with the devil.” I didn’t speak for a few minutes. I struggled to get the next words out of my mouth. “Are you going to take me to jail now?” I shivered at my next thought, “Will it hurt much when they hang me?”

It was silent for a while. Brian continued to massage my scalp as I stared into his unreadable eyes. He didn’t answer my question. I saw a flash of anger enter his eyes before he was able to cover it with that unreadable expression again.

He squeezed my arms tightly. I knew I’d have bruises the next day,   
”No one is going to hang you,” he said vehemently. “How many people know what happened?” 

“Me, Daphne and my father.” 

“You haven’t told anyone else?” Brian’s fingers tightened on my arms. 

“No.” 

His fingers relaxed their grip. “Good. Then I can clean this mess up. Did he hurt her?” 

I knew what Brian was asking. He wanted to know if Stockwell had raped Daphne. “No. I made it in time.” I heard him give a sigh of relief. 

“When you shot Stockwell where did he fall when he died?” 

“He was still alive when Daphne and I left. He was on his knees cursing.” 

Brian’s voice was thoughtful, “So, Stockwell was alive when you left.” He said to himself more than ask me a question. “Where did you shoot him?” 

I thought about it. “In the upper right chest. He screamed dropped to his knees and grabbed his chest.” 

“After he fell did you shoot him again?” 

Brian’s expression turned serious. “No. I dropped the gun and grabbed Daphne. I just wanted to get her out of harms way. She was hysterical.” 

“What was Daphne wearing that night?” 

“A blue dress with some type of flower pattern. I burned it the next day.” 

I could see Brian’s mind working. His expression was unreadable. He seemed so cool and calm but I could tell his mind was taking in everything I was telling him and disseminating it. 

“Do you loathe my presence now that you know the truth?” I whispered. 

Brian’s eyes flashed with something unreadable before he pulled me to him in a heated kiss that stole my breath from my body. If I thought Brian was rough before I wasn’t prepared for this. I found myself on the ground my pants roughly pulled from my body. Brian maneuvered me on all fours and he draped his body over mine. I felt the blunt head of his cock at my entrance and before I could   
prepare myself he invaded me in one long, smooth, forceful thrust. It knocked the breath from my body. If he had not been supporting me with his arm around my waist I would have fallen to the ground.

I finally understood the difference between making love and fucking. Brian had fucked me once tonight, made love to me once and he was fucking me again. This ride was rough, hard and quick. Brian gripped my hips and pounded into my ass. I could only hold on for the ride. I didn’t know what emotion or force drove Brian I only knew that I’d take anything for him. Even this hard ride. He came with a forceful thrust knocking me flat on my stomach. He flipped me over engulfed my hard cock in his mouth and with a few sucks I was releasing my seed down his throat screaming his name. He sucked me dry. He rolled over and pulled me with him. After such a rough, turbulent bout of fucking I needed this. The quiet and the gentleness after the turbulent storm.   
\-----------------

BRIAN

I had escorted Justin home after his revelations. Well, after I’d fucked him within an inch of his life. I was so desperate. I couldn’t understand the desperation that I felt when he asked me if he would be hanged. The idea of anyone hurting him brought out such a fierceness in me. I’d always been protective of Michael but nothing like I felt about Justin. I’d be damned if anyone hurt him. I was rough with him last night. Probably rougher than I should have been. He was still so new to fucking. The kid took the rough ride and begged me for more. I nearly pounded his ass into the grass and he was withering and moaning in pleasure and begging for more. I had to shake the thoughts from my mind. Now was not the time. Right now I had to protect my lover and get him away from his father.

I was bone tired. I massaged my temples as I took a seat at my makeshift desk. It was late morning. I hadn’t slept a wink. When I got back to my quarters I’d bathed the scent of fucking from my body, dressed, ate with the men and retreated to my office. 

I was looking over the preliminary report on Stockwell’s death. There was just something strange about his death. Justin said Stockwell’s was screaming and cursing at them when he and Daphne left him. I stood up and paced. I ran my hand through my hair. The facts just weren’t adding up. I took another deep breath, calmed my nerves, sat back down and went over the report again. There was a picture of Stockwell’s body naked body. He was laying on a table in the undertaker’s office. The picture was of poor quality. I looked at the picture again. That’s when I saw it. I took out a magnifying glass and study the image again. There were bruises on his shoulder that looked like finger marks. 

I put the picture aside and read the report again. Stockwell was wet when he’d been found. It hadn’t been raining the night he died. He had been pulled from the creek. How did Stockwell end up in the creek.

A few scenarios were running through my mind. First, Stockwell was still alive when Daphne and Justin left him. I believe someone came along. Found a wounded, and weak Stockwell and it was the perfect chance. They pushed him in the creek and drowned him. Now that I’d let it play through my mind it made perfect sense. Justin may have shot Stockwell but I don’t think the wound was life threatening. Someone else came along and finished Stockwell off. 

The mostly likely suspect was Justin’s father. If Craig Taylor saw the whole thing why didn’t he stop Stockwell when he was chocking his son. Or maybe he came upon them just as Justin shot Stockwell and left him. If that was the case a more sinister scenario had entered my mind. Justin’s father came across a bleeding and weak Stockwell and finished the job. The question was why. I doubted very seriously if it was to protect Justin. Now I had to find a motive. The reason Craig Taylor would kill Stockwell and blackmail his son.

I thought about the information the laundress had given me about Stockwell and his vices. I wondered if Craig Taylor had those same vices. I stood up and grabbed my hat and gloves. I had to find a motive for Stockwell’s murder and release my lover from his pact with the devil. The only way to do that was to confront the devil. But first I needed to get some ammunition.


	6. Lifetime Of Memories

Author’s Notes: I have really enjoyed this fic and hated to see it come to an end. I’m working on several other fics but I hope to get back to this one to write a sequel. Thank you to everyone that has read this fic and has sent such great feedback. I really appreciated your support as I wrote this fic.

Dedication: I want to dedicate this to my girl friend Jaime. She was the person that encouraged me to write a historical romance. 

Live Journal: www.livejournal.com/users/lelarose24/

* * *

It had been three days since I had been with Justin. I'd seen Justin around town but we hadn't met at the shack or creek in three days. I was running down leads on Craig's comings and goings during the time of Colonel Stockwell's death. I had been running scenarios of Colonel Stockwell’s murder through my mind. The most likely suspect was Justin’s father. If Craig Taylor saw the whole thing why didn’t he stop Colonel Stockwell when he was chocking his son. Or maybe he came upon them just as Justin shot Colonel Stockwell and left him. If that was the case a more sinister scenario had entered my mind. Justin’s father came across a bleeding and weak Colonel Stockwell and finished the job. The question was why. 

I doubted very seriously if it was to protect Justin. Now I had to find a motive. The reason Craig Taylor would kill Colonel Stockwell and blackmail his son.

I thought about the information the laundress had given me about Colonel Stockwell and his vices. I wondered if Craig Taylor had those same vices. I stood up and grabbed my hat and gloves. I had to find a motive for Colonel Stockwell’s murder and release my lover from his pact with the devil. The only way to do that was to confront the devil. But first I needed to get some ammunition.  
\-----------  
The information I had come across had been promising, but I needed more. I needed solid information to tie Craig to Stockwell's death. I needed to find proof that Craig had a motive to want Stockwell dead. If Justin and I were going to have a life together I had to get him away from his father. Mr. Johnson had pointed me to and establishment on the outskirts of Atlanta.

The establishment was in a deserted area. I had been up since five in the morning and it didn't look like I'd get in bed any time soon. Once I left this stablishment we still had to check out reports of Confederate sympathizers hiding in the woods near the Peachtree creek. I let out a weary sigh. There seemed to be no end to this day.

I dismounted my horse and looked at the dilapidated two-story building in front of me. Horses were secured around the structure. I could hear talking, laughter and music coming from inside. I'd only brought a dozen men with me and hoped that would be enough. I wasn't coming to make trouble I just needed to talk with the owner of the establishment.

I turned to address my men, "Wait here for me. If you hear any fighting or shooting...then come running. Schmidt you come with me."

"Yes sir," Schmidt said as he dismounted. 

I walked in the dingy room Schmidt on my heels. A small window was open to let in light and let out the smell. A few candles were now being lit to chase away the darkness. All eyes turned to us as we stepped in the establishment. After a few moments of staring at me the men went back to drinking, carousing or playing cards. I noticed there were only a few dishabille women around. Mostly the place was filled with men and young boys. Young boys that looked a little...effeminate. I knew what type of place this was and who it catered to. I had frequented places like this many times. The women were only a smoke screen to keep the town from knowing exactly what type of men this establishment catered to.

I walked further in the room. The floor was covered with straw that smelled of mildew, urine and other unpleasant smells. The clientele seemed to cater to the roughest members. I gave pause to why I was there. I was told I could find some interesting information about Craig Taylor from the owner of this establishment. I looked around at the dirty grimy place again. It didn't look like a place that Craig would set foot in. I turned to look at Schmidt. His eyes were darting around the room mainly focusing on the young men the openly flirting with him. I smiled wryly this was probably the first time that Schmidt had been to an establishment that had young men for entertainment.  
“Shut your mouth Schmidt or something my fly in it,” I joked.

“Ye…Yes sir,” he stammered as his eyes continued to dart around the room.

I walked up to the rough-hewn bar. The bartender spit a wad of tobacco juice on the floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I knew this would be the last establishment I'd order a drink.

"I'm looking for Gary Sapperstein. I was told I could find him here."

"Wat ya want wit'im?"

I looked into the bloodshot bleary eyes of the bartender. He was medium height, stout, with bad teeth, breath and losing his hair. I placed my hand firmly on my gun. Schmidt followed my lead.

"Don't make me repeat myself,” I warned.

The bartender stared at us for a few seconds then he motioned for someone. A tall willowy man appeared. He was dressed neatly in brightly colored pants and ruffled shirt. His long dark hair was pulled back and secured with a shiny clasp.

"Emmett show Major Kinney to Gary's office."

"Of course, honey," Emmett said with a wave of his lace handkerchief.

The pleasant smell of roses floated from his handkerchief. Emmett looked me up and down his eyes glowing in pleasure as he focused on my crotch. I had to laugh in spite of myself at his boldness.  
"Aren't you two adorable," he breathed.

Schmidt was so stunned he couldn’t utter a single word. If it had been another time, under different circumstances I would have fucked Emmett in an instant, but things were different and I didn't have the time. Emmett realized I wasn't interested. He gave out a sigh of regret.

"Well, follow me kind sir."

“Schmidt, stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Emmett gave Schmidt an alluring smile. “Sweetie you just wait right here. I’m going to show the major to Gary’s office then I’ll come back and we can have a nice little chat.”

Schmidt swallowed visibly, “Yes, miss...I mean sir…I mean…”

Emmett laughed, “Don’t fret about it honey, I’m all of the above. C’mon along let me show you to Gary’s so I can get back and entertain Schmidt. I so love men in uniform.”

I followed him through a short hallway that led to a door. Emmett knocked firmly and opened the door. We were greeted with the sight of a young man on his knees sucking an older, flabby man’s dick. The older man's dick wasn't very impressive. Emmett non-pulsed by the scene made introductions.

"The man sucking dick is Blake. The man getting his dick sucked is Gary."

"What the fuck is the meaning of this Emmett? I'll have your ass for this intrusion," Gary raged. He knocked Blake away from him and quickly righted his clothing.

"You've already had my ass," Emmett mocked. "Many times."

"What the hell is this about?" Gary demanded.

"Gentlemen will you excuse us?" I asked holding the door for them to depart.

Blake and Emmett walked out and I shut the door behind them.

"Alright how much do you want to keep from shutting down my establishment? I imagine you want the same amount I gave Colonel Stockwell."

For some reason I wasn't surprised about the information. I was learning a lot of disturbing things about Stockwell.

"I'm not here for a pay out. What I need is information. You give me the information I need and I walk away from your establishment and leave it intact."

Gary looked at me skeptically as he sat in the chair behind his desk. He motioned for me to sit in the chair in front of his desk. I declined. I stood at the door my hands clasped behind my back.

"What type of information do you need?" He asked as he lit a cheroot.

"What can you tell me about any connection between Colonel Stockwell and Craig Taylor."

Gary blew out his smoke and studied the end of his cheroot. "What is this information worth to you?" He bargained.

"Let's put it like this Gary," I sneered. "You either give me the information I need or I'll let the good God fearing people of this city know about your little den of iniquity. I don't think you'll like what they will do to you when they find out what goes on in this place," I informed him.

He studied me for a few minutes. I didn't blink. This was too important. This information could decide my future. Gary caved.

"Craig Taylor likes to gamble and he's usually very good at it. I hold a game every night. Craig comes in twice a week, makes use of the females I have on hand and plays a couple of hands of poker."

"What about around the time Colonel Stockwell died? Was he here then?"

"Yeah, they gambled the night before but Craig wouldn't have a reason to kill him. He gave Stockwell what he wanted."

"How much money did he lose to Colonel Stockwell?"

Gary leaned back in his chair and gave a lecherous smile, "Stockwell didn't want money from Craig." 

Gary remained silent waiting on me to ask what Stockwell wanted. I didn't grab the bait. I stared Gary down until he gave me the information I needed. Gary let out a sigh and sat up in his chair.

"Stockwell wanted the little black girl Craig's son is always pulling along behind him." Gary snorted. "If he had good sense he would have chosen the boy. Craig has a beautiful son. That golden hair, blue eyes and the ass on that boy would bring tons of money in the right establishment."

I looked at Gary in disgust I knew what he was thinking about where Justin was concerned. I wanted to punch the lecherous smile from his face for just thinking of Justin. Instead I pressed for more information. A picture of what happened the night Stockwell died was beginning to form in my mind.

"How do you know Colonel Stockwell wanted the girl?" 

I decided it was best not to let on that I knew Daphne's name.

"I was at the table that night. Stockwell said he didn't want to play for money. He wanted to play for property. I bowed out of the round but Craig was arrogant. He knew he could win. He probably would have if Stockwell hadn't cheated, but that was not my business to inform Craig. 

When Stockwell won the game Craig asked what property Stockwell wanted. He probably thought Stockwell would claim a few acres of land, maybe some guns or equipment, but that wasn't what Stockwell wanted. Stockwell told him he would forgo the land if Craig gave him the black girl. Craig agreed. Stockwell made him draw up papers giving him guardianship of the girl since slavery was no longer legal. Craig promised Stockwell that he'd deliver the girl to him. Stockwell didn't get a chance to enjoy the girls charms he died the next night."

I thought quickly. I'd gone through all of Stockwell's possessions. I had not found the paper Gary had mentioned. I thought about the report on Stockwell's death. There was no mention of guardianship papers. My mind was working quickly. I needed to find that paper and I had a good idea where it could be found.   
I didn't thank Gary for his information. I simply turned and left his office.  
\---------------------------  
JUSTIN  
I had been unable to sleep. I was still going over our plans. Brian told me that when everything was settled he would leave Atlanta and wait for me and Daphne in a specified town on the route of the train. He thought it would be too suspicious for us to leave or travel together. I would wait two days after his departure and then Daphne and I would take the next train and meet up with him. Then he, Daphne and me would continue to New York together. I couldn't wait until I could be with Brian at all times. He promised me that we would build a house and live together. He promised that we would spend the rest of our lives...together. Those promises had sustained me through the last few days I had been unable to talk to or touch him.

I heard a pebble hitting the glass window. For a moment I thought I was dreaming. I sat up quickly and checked the bed. Daphne was sleeping soundly. I heard it again the clink of a pebble hitting my window. I eased out of bed and made my way to the window. It was dark out but the moon was casting a soft glow. A cool breeze was blowing. 

"Justin, come down here," he whispered.

I looked down and spotted Brian. "I'm on my way," I answered softly.

I hurriedly pulled on my pants shoving the tail of my nightgown in my pants. I slipped my feet in my boots and raced from my room. I crept silently down the steps and out the back door. As I stepped from the porch Brian's arm shot out in the dark, wrapped around my waist and pulled me to him. The cover of the big oak tree hid us from view. I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck as my lips found his. I had been starving for him. Since Brian had introduced me to the pleasures of the flesh I couldn't get enough of him. I assaulted his mouth. Brian's tongue slipped in my mouth and I sucked on it hungrily. Brian tasted so good. I never knew a man good taste as delicious as Brian tasted. I could taste his cheroot on his tongue. I moaned in his mouth as I rubbed my body against his.

I felt myself being lifted in Brian's arms and we were moving. I opened my eyes and realized Brian had moved us farther behind the large oak tree. Brian eased me away from him and looked intently in my eyes.

He smiled lazily, "I see someone missed me."

I smiled back, "So, much I didn't think I'd survive."

"It's only been three days," he teased.

"It has seemed like a lifetime," I informed him dramatically.

He laughed, "I guess I need to get used to your theatrics. Since we are going to be spending our lives together."

That made me smile even more. "Yes, we will be together forever," I answered. I wiggled out of Brian's grasp and dropped to my knees.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

I could tell by the inflection in his voice he knew exactly what I was doing.

"I thought I'd show you how much I missed you," I said as I busied my hands releasing his dick from its confines.

"We have more pressing things to attend to this night," he said huskily.

I smiled, wrapped my hands around his dick and leaned close, "It will wait," I said as my mouth wrapped around the throbbing head of his dick. I heard his throaty moan as I took his dick deep in my mouth.  
\-----------------------  
After two mutual cock suckings and a bout of fucking we had made it to my father's study. I for one wanted to go back to the more pleasure pursuit of fucking but Brian was adamant that we find some kind of paper my father had signed.

"What if he's burned it?" I asked as I rummaged through the files in my father’s desk. 

"Your father would want to keep it around. As a reminder of getting the upper hand over an adversary."

I didn't understand the logic of that but I was sure Brian knew what he was talking about. Brian was still trying to open father's safe. I loved the way Brian's pants stretched across his ass. Brian had a nice firm ass. I wondered if I'd ever get a chance to fuck him. I decided to be bold and ask.

"Brian?"

"Hmm?" he answered still concentrating on the safe.

"Will I ever get a chance to…to..ah, to fuck you?"

That got Brian's attention. He turned around and stared at me intently. "You want to fuck me?" He asked in disbelief.

"I...I...If it's not accept..acceptable. I'll understand.   
It's..It's just that it feels so nice when you fu...fuck me I thought I’d li..like to see how it would feel if I fu...fucked you." I knew I was stammering but Brian was looking at me so intently I couldn't help myself.

He gave me that crooked smile of his I loved so much, "We will have to see," he said.

My face suffused with heat and color. Just the thought of fucking Brian had me hard.

"O...Okay," I croaked.

Brian laughed at my discomfiture. "Now keep looking," he ordered.

I shook my head and went back to my father's files.

"Finally," Brian announced.

I looked over as he opened the door of the safe. I walked over and kneeled beside him. He carefully and methodically removed the contents of the safe. At the bottom of the safe was a crumpled piece of paper. It looked to be water and mud stained. Brian opened it. A smile of satisfaction crossed is face. I lean over to read the paper. We both heard the footsteps in the hallway.

"Brian we have to get out of here," I whispered nervously.

"No, I couldn’t have timed this better. It's time to confront your father with his lies and deceptions."

Brian stood up and walked to the door. He opened the door just as my father reached it. My father stood in his nightclothes. His hair was standing up in spikes on his head. His skin looked blotched and his eyes were bloodshot. I knew he had gone to bed drunk.

"Come in Mr. Taylor. We've been waiting on you."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Father demanded. "Justin why have you let this Northern scum in our home?" 

Before I could answer my Father looked around his study. It was obvious at least from my part that it had been searched. The areas Brian had touched showed no signs of disturbance. My Father stepped in the study and Brian closed the door firmly behind him.   
"What is the cause of this intrusion to my privacy?"

Brian held up the paper. My father's turned white as a sheet and began to stutter.

"Wh...What..What is..is the me...meaning of this?"

"It's simple Mr. Taylor. We both know what happened to Colonel Stockwell."

My father turned to me and pointed his finger. "Daphne was having an affair with Colonel Stockwell. When he refused to take her away from here with him she shot him in a fit of rage and Justin covered it up." 

He spit out the lie he had threatened me with to keep me from leaving Georgia. I narrowed my eyes at my father. At that moment I hated him. I hated him for his lies, but most importantly I hated him for willingly telling a lie on a girl that could very well be his daughter. Telling a lie that could very well mean her death.

"That's a lie and you know it!" I shouted at my father.

Brian smirked and tapped the paper in his hand, "Let's try that again, Craig. How does this sound? You gambled and lost to Colonel Stockwell. Instead of money Colonel Stockwell wanted Daphne and you signed papers giving him guardianship of her."

I gasped, "You bastard!" I lunged for my father only to be pulled back by Brian's strong hand. I struggled with him.

"Justin calm down. Attacking your Father, although he deserves it will not serve our purpose this night."

I knew he was right but more than anything I wanted to hurt my father. Instead I took a steady breath and composed myself.

Brian continued his narrative. "The night Stockwell was killed you knew Justin planned to take Daphne swimming. You purposely detained him hoping that by the time he made it to the creek that Stockwell would have taken Daphne and disappeared. Only you couldn't detain Justin as long as you wanted to and Stockwell’s lust got the best of him. Instead of kidnapping Daphne and taking her away he attempted to rape her at the creek. Justin found them in time. He struggled with Stockwell, shot him in the shoulder and left him...alive at the creek." Brian arched an   
eyebrow. "Am I right so far?"

My father didn't answer. Brian shrugged and continued. 

"You came upon Stockwell alive, but weak. What did he do Craig? Did he threaten to take your land from you? Threaten to have you arrested and seize your property? You couldn't let that happen could you? You saw your chance. You picked up the gun and shot Stockwell dead. You searched him and found the paper you'd signed. You then pushed his body in the creek. I don't need to go over what you did afterwards we all know that story."

"You can't prove anything," my father hissed.

"I have this paper with your signature on it. I also have a few witnesses that are willing to testify that you were upset and angry about loosing to Stockwell. I think people are going to find it pretty convenient that Stockwell died on the night you were supposed to deliver his winnings."

I could see the wheels turning in my father's head. "That's not how it happened. I came upon Stockwell. He was angry and cursing. He threatened to have Justin arrested and to have Daphne any way. We argued. I realized there was no reasoning with him. I turned to leave but he lunged for the gun and we struggled with it. I don't know how but it went off. Stockwell dropped to the ground dead." 

I didn't want to but I believed my father. As angry as I was with him I did believe his account of the events of that fateful night. 

My father poured another drink and downed it. He tried one more bluff, "Who would believe you? Daphne is just a black girl of no value to me. Why would I kill Stockwell over her?"

Brian shrugged nonchalantly. "I wasn't sent here to find the motive for Stockwell's death. I was just sent here to find his killer." Brian gave my father an evil smile. "And I have."

My father stared at Brian. My father hated losing. He hated admitting defeat but he was realizing this was a battle that he wasn't going to win. He caved under the pressure, "What do you want?"

"It's simple. This gets buried here. Justin and Daphne's involvement in Stockwell's shooting, even your involvement in his death. In return you let Justin and Daphne leave Georgia and go wherever they want to go. That's the deal I'm offering."

"Why do you care about a black girl and boy?"

"Let's just say I have a father little like you. Spending my life under his thumb was not an option. I understand Justin's desire to get away from you. He's a good kid. I want to help him. And after what you did to Daphne, a girl that could very well be your own daughter, let's say I know she'd be safer away from you."

My father dismissed Brian's admonishment. He concentrated on saving his own ass. "The army will continue to search for his killer. They sent you what is to stop them from sending someone else?"

"Earlier tonight my men and I tracked down and found a few Confederate hold outs. Unfortunately they refused to give up and we killed them. I'm willing to send information to Washington that these were Stockwell's killers."

My father eyed Brian skeptically, "How do I know I can trust you to keep your word?"

My father was a man that wasn't known for keeping his word. He figured other men were as duplicitous and dishonest as he.

Brian smiled evilly, "You'll just have to trust me."

My father poured yet another drink. He down it quickly and poured another one as quickly. He waved the glass sloshing the amber liquid on desk. "Sure take the Justin and Daphne. Justin will be back within a few months. The boy has no idea how to survive out in the world on his own."

“From this night on you will never be my Father. Never,” I said vehemently.

My Father looked steadily in my eyes. As the truth of my words sunk in he dropped his head. I would like to think that he was too ashamed to look at me knowing what he’d almost done to Daphne.

"As I was going through your papers I came across an inheritance Justin's grandfather had left him."

I looked at Brian confused, "What inheritance?"

"It seems your mother's father left you a small inheritance that your father has kept for himself."

I knew that father would have never told me about the inheritance. I turned to my father. "Father, Daphne and I will be leaving as soon as I can book passage on a train. I want the money from my inheritance ready to take with me."

My father nodded his head in understanding. He seemed to shrink in front of me. A defeated man. I looked at him. He didn't look like the imposing man that I had feared most of my life. He looked like exactly what he was, a soft man used to getting by on threats, coercion and on the hard work and efforts of others.  
Brian unobtrusively squeezed my hand in support. I squeezed his back. Brian showed my father the paper as he folded it and placed it in pocket.

"I’m going to keep this assure you will keep your word. I'll leave you now. You and Justin need to finalize plans for his departure. I will be leaving later today. My mission in Atlanta has been completed." Brian turned to leave. He opened the door and turned to address my father, "If I think you have harmed your son or Daphne, if I even think you are trying to double cross me, I assure you that I will personally pull the lever and see you swinging from the gallows."

I'd never seen my father as visibly shaken as he was at Brian's words. My father reeked of fear. Brian inclined his head to me and walked out the study closing the door firmly behind him.  
\------------------  
BRIAN  
I stood on the platform watching as the passengers departed from the train. I had mapped out Justin and Daphne's travel itinerary. They should have arrived two days ago I had mapped out Justin and Daphne's travel itinerary. They should have arrived yesterday but they had not shown up on the train. I was beginning to worry. I knew I had gone over the plans in great detail with Justin. There was no way he could have gotten the plans confused. 

It had been a week since I left Atlanta. Justin had come to my office the day I left. That had been a mistake. The boy had carried on like I was deserting him and he would never see me again. Justin definitely should have thought of a career in the theatre. He was definitely prone to drama. I still remembered the scene like it had occurred a few moments ago and not a week ago. Justin had pleaded and pleaded with me to fuck him just one more time before he left. I tried to resist but I could not. I leaned him over my desk and fucking him in my office. Something I thought I would never do. I tried but I was unable to control his moans of ecstasy or mine. 

If Schmidt heard anything he made no mention of it.  
After we had fucked twice I'd leaned against my makeshift desk and held Justin close to me. I didn't admit it to him but I knew I was going to miss him as much as he was going to miss me. I wasn't used to missing anyone. Hell, in the time I had been fighting in the war and in Atlanta I had missed Michael but nothing like I knew I'd miss Justin. So, I'd held him close that last day and in my clumsy fashion tried to assure him that everything would be okay, that we'd be together soon.

Justin had stayed in my office until the last possible moment. I had walked him to the door. He'd walked away from me slowly a forlorn expression on his face. That last image I had of him was as he walked across the red dirt road, looking over his shoulder at me. The sun turned his hair to spun silk and his eye were as bright and blue as the sky. That's the picture that I had kept in my mind for the last seven days. The picture I woke up with each morning, carried with me through the long arduous days, fell asleep to and dreamed of at night.

I walked along the platform as the train unloaded. I kept looking for the blonde head and a smaller red head. Just as I was sure that no more passengers would depart the train I saw them. Justin was helping Daphne down the steps of the train. I'd never seen Daphne so finely dressed before. She wore a beautiful gray silk dress trimmed with delicate white lace. Her curly red hair was secured by a matching silk and lace bonnet. She looked like a true Southern belle. I watched as men looked over her beautiful form. I knew that Justin and I would have to watch her closely. Two men had helped to unload their luggage and placed it beside them. Justin spoke to them and Daphne smiled at them. I watched as one man blushed profusely and tipped his hat to Daphne before walking away. Yes, Daphne was going to be a little heartbreaker. Justin and I would definitely have to keep our eyes on her.

All male eyes may have been on Daphne but my eyes were on Justin. He was dressed in tailored navy blue suit. The sun was shining on his blonde hair and he was smiling at something Daphne said. He looked absolutely beautiful. He began looking around and his eyes landed on me. His smiled widen. He nudged Daphne and they both began walking in my direction. We met near the center of the platform. We stopped and stared at each other. I could see the joy in his eyes. 

"What took you so long?" I asked. 

"Daphne had to get a new dress, shoes, petticoat and bonnet," Justin began only to be interrupted by Daphne.

"Well, you got a new suit made," she said.

"Yes," he admitted, "I had one suit made. You had many items of clothing made," he pointed out.

"I needed those things. The clothes I had weren't fit for traveling," she defended.

I watched as they bickered back and forth. I shook my head. I was going to have to get used to their bickering and theatrics. I let out as sigh and broke up the little disagreement, "What else took up your time?"

Justin answered my question, "Then it took my father a few days to get the money from my inheritance and we had to ride to the nearest city so Daphne could ride in the White section on the train. Then when we arrived we missed the train and had to wait another day for the next one."

I had my answer. I glanced at the bags sitting a distance from us on the platform. "I hope the money isn't in your luggage."

Justin glanced back at the luggage and smiled. "No we have it in a safe place."

I raised an eyebrow. Daphne smiled mischievously as she smoothed down the skirt of her dress. She leaned in and whispered, "I have it sewn in my petticoats."

I had to laugh at their ingenuity. "I guess we are ready to proceed to the next stop," I said.

Justin gave me his sunshine smile. The one that I knew he reserved only for me. All that mattered now was that they had made it. Justin and I would be sharing our lives together. I reached out my hand to shake his. I needed to touch him. Even if it was disguised as a gentlemanly handshake. Justin clasped my hand tightly. For a few moments we stared in to each other’s eyes silently promising our lives to each other. Daphne placed her smaller hand on top of ours. This was it. This was my family. Forever.  
\------------------------  
The Present  
Monday the 1st day of January 1900   
A New Century  
Arizona

 

I close the journal and look over at Brian. That was the beginning of our lives together. Through the years we have been a family. We have raised two children, Brian, Jr. and Justina. Family members and friends have died and through it all we have remain together.

"Do you have any regrets about our lives?" I ask.

Brian pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head, "My only regret is I didn't find you sooner."

I snuggle closer to my lover and watch as the sun marks another wonderful day in a Lifetime of Memories.


End file.
